


Back from the Edge

by Honestlytrulymad



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humour and Fluff, F/M, Falling In Love, Harry thinks so too but well, I don’t understand tags, Sirius thinks it's great, Slow Burn, This is an AU, as a witch, because I've decided Mr and Mrs Evans were frisky little shits, but she wasn't a planned baby, etc etc - Freeform, hopefully anyway, i'll try, i’m not sure what im doing, not in the same way, or where im going with this, she is also a tall red-head and apparantly a lawyer, so Violet is hereby six years younger than Lily, where another Evans sister existed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 106,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23515471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honestlytrulymad/pseuds/Honestlytrulymad
Summary: Violet Evans lost everything she ever had in one night. She slipped away like a ghost into an abyss. The first Violet was gone, never to be seen again. The second Violet swears and curses like a sailor, she has a nephew who continues to walk headlong into trouble, and who has a 'dead' Dark Lord out for his blood, she has two Marauders, who continually bring out shadows of the first Violet and she has a Hogwarts Headmaster, who just seems to keep revealing life threatening secrets.She came back from the edge and Violet really has no idea what to make of it all.(*First seven chapters have been deleted* ~ only relevant if you have been following for a while.)
Relationships: Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 59
Kudos: 252





	1. Chapter 1

There was a grave silence floating precariously around the office, as though waiting to snap.

Fudge was looking as equally serious, tired, stressed and undeniably terrified that someone had managed to escape Azkaban, with that someone being the infamous Sirius Black. Bones looked less on the scared side and more on the serious and petulant side. And finally, Scrimgeour was arguing with Violet, of course, with clear annoyance written all over his face.

“What do you mean he’s escaped from Azkaban?” She hissed.

“I mean, Evans, he was sat in his cell yesterday and now that same cell is empty.” Came the snarky reply.

“Oh, yes, thank you, Scrimgeour, I had momentarily forgotten the English language and now you have restored my memory; I will forever be in your debt.”

Neither Bones or Fudge were as used to the sarcastic arguments that were always prevalent between the Deputy and Head as the other Aurors, so it was only natural that the both of them had a curious and slightly shocked look.

Fudge intervened, before Scrimgeour could get in his upper hand in the argument, “I understand that tensions are high, but really, Rufus, and you too, Violet, there is no need for such childish ploys.”

Both Violet and Scrimgeour shut up and simultaneously gritted their teeth, now conjoined in mutual annoyance at the patronising tone of Fudge. Violet had to refrain herself from scowling outright at the Minister, _well he would know all about ‘childish ploys’, wouldn’t he?_ thought Violet hotly.

Bones was looking at Violet suspiciously, she spoke lowly, with interest, “I would have imagined you to have been more angry at the breakout, Evans, particularly given what he…” the rest of her sentence went unsaid but it was heard by all participants all the same. All three of them were now staring at Violet with interest.

Violet gritted her teeth harder; she would rather not introduce her _issues_ at a time like this, so she replied tersely, showing clearly that she was offended by Bones’ blunt remarks, “My personal afflictions are hardly of any importance in a case such as this, are they?”

“No, they are not,” Violet dually respected and hated the ease at which Bones spoke with, “but I just wanted to know that you would not be, how do I put this, effected in any way, as such, before we put you in charge of all the Aurors on this case.” Now that caught Violet’s attention. As it had Scrimgeour’s.

“What?” Violet and Scrimgeour both asked, with varying degrees of sharpness.

Bones then, looking as serious as ever, replied, “Evans, you will be leading the Aurors on the recapture of Sirius Black, while, you, Scrimgeour, will lead the other members of the Ministry, who have no such Auror training.”

Scrimgeour turned his head slowly towards Fudge in the hopes of regaining some support, “What is it that you mean by other members of the Ministry?”

Fudge shifted almost guiltily on his feet, but his look was secure, “I am afraid we will need all the help we can get on a case like this.”

Bones cut in again, “Yes, and it is vital that they have someone leading them, and more importantly, a someone who has a large notion of Auror training, lest Arthur Weasley begin running around Britain trying to catch Sirius Black with rubber ducks.” Fudge let out a sound Violet would equate to a poorly supressed snort of amusement.

Violet wasn’t exactly pleased with the remark Bones had used, and Scrimgeour nearly looked as unhappy with the remark as Violet felt, although she knew it was for very different reasons. However, it had been the message that Bones was trying to convey, not a secret hatred for Arthur Weasley, so Violet would not waste emotion being angry over a backhanded comment.

Bones was not asking either of them, she was ordering, which meant that there was obviously no room for argument, no matter how hard Scrimgeour wanted to object and it didn’t even shame Violet to admit that it made her want to smirk in his face.

The silence from both parties allowed the conversation to progress.

Fudge regained ‘control’ and said, most pompously, “Rufus, you are to go call in each and every one of the Aurors and explain the situation to them.” The clock on Scrimgeour’s desk read half past seven, which was much earlier than most Aurors arrived at work; Violet knew the early wake up call would not be warmly welcomed.

It barely took Violet a second to catch on to the fact that Scrimgeour had just been kicked out of his own office; Violet almost felt sorry for him. He had definitely gotten the short straw when these plans had been roughly drawn up.

Violet was waiting for her instructions and it seemed that Scrimgeour was too, however they never came. The only thing that did come was the impatient call from Amelia Bones, saying, “Scrimgeour, you have been dismissed.” Violet could barely keep her smirk at bay, just as Scrimgeour could barely keep his scowl at bay as he stormed out of his own office. Nope. Violet would never let that go.

Once he had gone, Bones quickly rounded on Violet, “Wipe that smirk off your face, Evans, there are more important things happening than your petty tendencies.” The smirk disappeared as quick as it formed, and Violet pushed aside all embarrassment. More important things, right.

Fudge then launched into the story of him visiting Azkaban the day before, and _Merlin pants, Fudge knew how to tell a story_ , he paused in all the right places and spoke brashly in other places, basically, completely dramatizing his whole visit as if he had just walked headlong into the middle of a bus and lived to tell the story. _Your incompetency is showing, Minister,_ thought Violet almost amusedly, _you might want to hide it again before Rita Skeeter gets a hold._

Even Madam Bones seemed to be holding back an eyeroll, Violet was sure she must have heard this story multiple times this morning already, and when she and Violet had caught eyes in the middle of Fudge’s tirade and Violet was positive she had seen her stretched lips twitch. _Bones and McGonagall would get along wonderfully,_ thought Violet absentmindedly, not for the first time either.

Once Fudge had finished, the only important part she had taken from his story was that Sirius had seen a newspaper and had been so affected by it that he had decided to escape Azkaban. She had quickly voiced her notation to the two senior member of the Ministry, by asking whether she could see the newspaper Fudge had given Sirius, saying, “It will be a start as to know what made him escape.”

Bones had looked at Violet appraisingly, and Violet had nearly preened, but before she had any chance to revel, Fudge cut in impatiently, “Well, it’s obvious why he escaped, isn’t it?”

Violet’s brows furrowed, she was feigning ignorance, because she already knew what was coming. Fudge carried on tartly, “Harry Potter, of course!”

Violet nearly scoffed, ‘of course!’, who was the Auror here again?

Bones had remained silent, as she often was, Violet had noticed, when she was in the presence of Fudge; it only made Violet respect her more. However, Violet was not silent, she batted back, “Where is the proof that he escaped for the purpose of killing my nephew?”

Fudge bristled back in shock, “The Dementors say he was muttering in his sleep, ‘He’s at Hogwarts’, who else could it be? You surely know better than anyone that Black had it out for the Potter’s.”

Oh, Fudge didn’t even know how much she knew better than anyone and everyone.

And she had a feeling that that was why she had been chosen to lead the Aurors on this case: because she knew better that everyone.

However, this was a criminal case for her job, not a personal vindictive mission. It would be hard for her to ignore her personal feelings, but it would make for a pretty piss poor job if she spent her time surrounded by her own bias and wallowing in her own self-pity.

Violet replied in a calm and even voice, starkly contrasting the turmoil developing in the pit of her stomach, “There are many males who reside in Hogwarts for a large portion of the year, I was merely suggesting that Black could be after someone, such as Dumbledore.”

“Yes, but, after what he did -,”

Violet could not help but cut him off as her ire got the better of her, “I am well aware of what he did, Minister. As you said, I know better than anyone.” Her voice was cold and devoid of any emotion.

Fudge was nothing if not relentless, and so, stupidly carried on, “Yes, _so_ , as I was saying, it has to be Harry he has escaped for.”

Honestly, who did he think he was?

Violet’s voice had returned to its calm and even tone, “Yes, and so, as _I_ was saying, Harry has been at Hogwarts for two years now, which is why it would be exceedingly stupid to write off any other suspect before we even start.” Violet should really watch her tongue more, “All we know is that he is on his way to Hogwarts. Presumably, at least.”

Fudge looked heated at Violet’s insult and went to open his mouth, but Bones cut him off before they could digress, “A copy of the newspaper will be delivered to you, Evans, but you must take all the precautionary required, _in case,_ it is Harry Potter Black is after.” The appeasement had been made, and Violet could live with that.

Violet nodded and replied, “I doubt he has any idea where I live, due to the fact that he was incarcerated when the house was bought and that it is now under a Fidelius charm. I can assure you that Harry is safe so long as he remains in the wards.” Once she was finished, she was pleased to see that Fudge was still reeling from her insult.

Bones nodded, clearly pleased with her efforts and the way she was handling the information, “I want regular updates on your progress and alert me immediately if anything of importance comes about.” Violet’s dismissal had been announced and Violet stood up to head towards the door, but as her hand touched the door knob, Bones’ voice rang out, “Oh and Evans,” Violet’s head twisted around, “you will also be in charge of the Hit Wizards.”

Violet nodded her head, and it was only after she had said, “Minister, Madam Bones” and had exited Scrimgeour’s office, that she let out the largest smirk in existence. Scrimgeour would surely be fuming.

* * *

Violet was stood in front of all the Aurors and the Hit Wizards, who were chatting between themselves, about one person and one person only Sirius Black. Violet was certain he would be the primary topic for all conversation for the next few months.

She counted to three in her head and then rang her voice out loudly and clear, “Okay,” all talking ceased as they looked up at her expectantly. Violet hid a proud smirk, “So I am assuming Scrimgeour has filled you in on the events that took place late last night.” There was a general murmur of clarification, so Violet proceeded, “The official story goes something like this: The Minister was in Azkaban a few days ago, before the escape, and he was checking that everything was up to standard, which obviously included the higher guarded cells. Black then asked him for the newspaper he was carrying. To which Fudge complied, and then days later he escaped.” She then clapped her hands together, “Any questions?”

A voice that Violet recognised as Savage’s, “Do we know exactly _how_ he escaped?”

Oh, Violet knew _exactly_ how he escaped.

She did not know why she had refrained the information, but she also knew that she would be refraining the information till the day she died. Why? Violet could not tell you, not even if she wanted to; she did not even know herself.

There were other voices mumbling in support of the question: it was a very good question, a question that only two people in the world could answer, that was herself and Remus Lupin.

So, Violet did the sensible thing and lied straight through her teeth, “No we do not, unfortunately. Although Fudge seems adamant on Black’s frame of mind; he insists that Black was completely sane. Rather unlike his,” the words began to stick in Violet’s throat, “counterparts, who are luckily all in Azkaban, still.”

She quickly caught sight of the newest member of the Auror force, Nymphadora Tonks, or Tonks as she insisted, who actually reminded Violet a great deal of herself, just without all the underlying grief that Violet used to carry about. Tonks was a Metamorphagus and was currently sporting bright pink hair. Violet appreciated it, similarly as she appreciated Albus Dumbledore’s atrocious robes. Mood brighteners.

Tonks then caught Violet’s eye, smiled, and then asked the question, “How _are_ we going to recapture Black?”

Another very good question.

Violet returned the smile, albeit a little forcibly, and looked towards the group of Aurors and Hit Wizards who were looking determined and expectantly at her, “We’re going to need two maps: one of Britain and one of Azkaban…”

* * *

The Daily Prophet that had been released this morning, with the new of Sirius Black’s escape lay on the table in front of Harry. Violet could barely stand to look at the picture on the front cover, to see Sirius like that – that was not her Sirius. She could not even tell herself that there was no _her Sirius._

Over this past day, and Violet supposed, the past twelve years, she had tried to compartmentalize. Tried to separate ‘her Sirius’ from the one she now saw glaring manically from the depths of the paper, from the one who had done what he had done; ‘her Sirius’ was dead, he had died twelve years ago. The Sirius Black she was trying to catch, was just another convicted criminal, one who Violet had never met before.

The compartmentalization wasn’t going too well, if you couldn’t already tell.

“He murdered _13 people_ in one go,” whispered Harry in shock.

Violet had no idea how to break the news to him; what was she supposed to say?

She gulped, “Do you remember when I first told you about how your parents were murdered?” Harry looked at her curiously, but nodded all the same; of course he remembered, “And do you remember how I told you your parents had gone into hiding, with a spell like the one on this house?”

Harry nodded again, “The Fidelius charm”, Harry voiced his thoughts out loud, “You’re our Secret Keeper.”

Violet nodded her head, and she kept her gaze fixed firmly above Harry’s head, “And do you remember how I told you that one of your parent’s best friends had been their Secret Keeper?” Waiting for Harry’s nod again, but it came more as a jerk this time as he started to catch on to the direction the conversation was leading. She forced her eyes to match Harry’s, and in barely a whisper, she said, as though it pained her to say it, “Sirius Black was your parent’s Secret Keeper.”

Violet watched expectantly at Harry, waiting for him to blow up or start crying, or something, but he just sat there on the table, with a half drank cup of tea next to him, eyes shining with something Violet couldn’t place. Violet ransacked her brain, trying to formulate something to say, but nothing availed, _what was she supposed to say?_

Surprisingly, it was Harry who spoke first, his eyes glaring down at the picture on the newspaper, “So you knew him then?”

Violet’s stared at her own cup of tea and her fingers traced the rim, “Better than most.”

“Clearly didn’t know him that well, did you?” Harry cut back, scathingly; his words sliced the air.

Violet’s head snapped up at his tone, her own eyes glinting dangerously, she narrowed her eyes, “He was the best friend your dad ever had. Your parents named him your Godfather. He was there at your birth, he sat with me for hours while Lily gave birth to you. He was kind, brave, loyal to a fault, he was -,” Violet stopped to take a breath before she got too carried away, “The Sirius I knew hated the Dark Arts and everything and anything to do with them. He ran away from his own family, for Merlin’s sake. I just don’t know what could have made him – I just _don’t know_.”

“He betrayed my parents; he’s the reason they’re dead!” shouted Harry, Violet’s words having only made him angrier, “What more is there to know?”

“Watch your tone.” Growled Violet, she wasn’t about to be lectured for something she already knew. He hadn’t _known_ Sirius, if he had, if he had known Sirius Black the way Violet had, she was sure they would be having a different conversation.

Harry just stood up abruptly and stared at Violet with a look of betrayal and stalked off to his bedroom. Violet heard the bedroom door slam and she had a right mind to go in there and force him to apologise. She was the adult, not his sister: he had no right to be speaking to her like that, and those doors were bloody expensive.

Violet put her head in her hands and rubbed her eyes furiously with the heel of her palms; she was _not_ going to cry over Sirius _Fucking_ Black. Not today.

No. She would finish her tea and then go and speak to Harry, like an adult.

 _If only he wasn’t so_ narrowminded _,_ thought Violet angrily, _then maybe we could have an argument like grownups for once._

* * *

She slowly pushed open the door to Harry’s bedroom and saw him lying on his bed flicking through the photo album Hagrid and Violet had put together for his twelfth birthday. Harry resolutely ignored Violet and Violet supressed an eyeroll, like an adult would.

She sat down at the end of his bed and spoke quietly and calmly, “I swore I would kill him; you know. If I ever saw him again. Vowed it late at night once.” Violet’s late-night thoughts were never happy ones.

Harry’s head had perked up from the picture he was looking at to see Violet staring at his wardrobe, “Would you? Kill him, I mean, if you saw him.” Harry couldn’t help but ask.

Violet just shrugged, “I don’t think I could, even if I really wanted to.”

“I’ll do it for you, if you want.” said Harry seriously.

Violet turned her head so quickly, Harry thought she much have gotten whiplash, “You will do no such thing.” Did he seriously think she would just let him become a killer for her?

“Why not? He deserves it.” Harry stated, defensively.

Teenagers, honestly; could only see the world in black and white, “It’s not a matter of what he deserves, killing _changes_ you Harry, and not in a good way. And I don’t think James and Lily would have wanted their son becoming a killer for their dead memories.”

“How would you know if killing changes you?” Harry’s curiosity ran over his anger.

Violet just stared at him with a pointed gaze.

“Oh,” said Harry faintly, “who was it?”

Violet brought her legs up on to the bed and folded them beneath her, she had never told anyone this before, she had refused to comment when the Prophet had asked for her story. It wasn’t a hero tale, no matter how many people had congratulated her for it.

“A rapist.” Harry took in a sharp breath, “It was one of my first ever Auror missions. I was with Kingsley Shacklebolt, he’s another Auror, and we had found this rapist, one who had been on our radar for months. Ramsay Butler was his name. He would break into a home, Magical and Muggle, stun the woman and then rape them. I hated him, before I had even met him. Hated him with all my heart. But, regardless of my personal feelings, we were supposed to capture him, so he could go to Azkaban. I hadn’t even meant to kill him.” Harry was listening with rapt attention and Violet shuffled her way up the bed to lie beside Harry.

“Once we got there all hell broke loose. He had blown up the wall behind us and Kingsley had been standing too close to it, which meant he got the brunt of its force and was knocked out. Then it was just me and Butler, and I was terrified, obviously, but I was also excited; excited to be doing something so _dangerous_ , it’s what I had wanted from being an Auror; the danger. Anyway, we duelled for a while, but it wasn’t going anywhere, just a back and forth of dark curses and shield charms. So, I thought I would turn his own move back on him: I blew up the wall behind him. I had planned on just knocking him out, but well, you can’t really plan on _just_ knocking someone out. Turns out the wall I blew up was the wall that practically held the house up, right in the centre.”

Harry could picture the rest, but he was looking at Violet as though he had never seen her before. He knew he didn’t _really_ know Violet, of course he didn’t, he had never been inside her head, but it was only now he realised just how little he knew.

Harry only found himself wanting to know more, more of the real Violet.

“But how did it _change_ you?” He was truly interested to know.

“Not entirely sure, but once the roof came down and I knew that both me and Kingsley were still alive, I went over to look at Butler. But when I found him, he was all -,” Violet closed her eyes, as she remembered the feeling of seeing him, limbs askew, neck twisted and surrounded in blood. She could feel the same as she had that very day, she remembered it more vividly than she would like to, his dead face stitched into the very back of her eyes, never moving, never changing, just there, always just there.

“Smushed?” Harry offered, uncertainly.

Violet let out a laugh despite herself, “Yeah, smushed.” She then regained seriousness, and carried on, “It felt as though something inside me ripped, like my -,” the word ‘soul’ now hung like an elephant between them, both of their minds thinking of the horcruxes. Violet quickly added, “I haven’t got any horcruxes, just so you know.”

“But you didn’t kill him intentionally, so maybe it didn’t…” Oh, Harry wouldn’t know.

“Anyway,” Violet didn’t really fancy debating whether her soul was ripped, or not, “what I was trying to say is that you will not be killing Sirius Black, no matter how good you think it might feel.”

Harry understood and felt much less vindictive than when he had been sat at the kitchen table staring into Black’s demonic eyes, “If I do see him, can I at least give him a punch in the nose?”

Violet kissed the top of his head, ruffled his hair and said mildly, “If I’m not there, you can give him a punch from me too.”

Like an adult. Turns out; not so bad.

* * *

The following day was essentially a cat and dog chase all over Britain, Violet refused to acknowledge the pun; the report for the escaped convict Sirius Black had gone out to the public, both Magical and Muggle, so now there were sightings of Sirius Black in every corner of Britain.

It was ridiculous, when the report came in, two Hit Wizards would go out, only to find no Sirius Black, but rather a terrified old lady who had seen some tree at a funny angle. Then the two Hit Wizards would come back, and another report would come in from 60 miles south.

Now, if Sirius had managed to get himself a hold of a wand, then it would be entirely possible, but Violet knew how he was getting around and it wasn’t apparating.

It had been at the tip of her tongue all day.

_He’s an Animagus. He’s an Animagus. He’s an Animagus. He’s an Animagus._

But she just could not say it.

Violet didn’t even know who she was trying to protect, Remus? Her Sirius? The other Sirius? Or herself?

She had gotten a hold of the newspaper that Fudge had given Sirius, and Violet had been most disappointed to find nothing. Absolutely nothing. She had torn through it from top to bottom, each page had its own clipping on the board. Nothing, nothing about Harry, nothing about Dumbledore, nothing about anyone who could mean something to Sirius.

That was, unless Sirius was intent on killing a Weasley, given that all nine of them had their picture on the front cover.

Another thing not helping was the fact that the entire Ministry was in complete chaos, Violet had never seen anything like it. Most people were off their normal jobs, all taking part in this chase with thin air. Magic was being exposed on a daily basis, because Stealth and Tracking were not of a large concern to people who had not studied it for a ridiculous amount of time. At least Violet had the trained people, she could only imagine the hell that Scrimgeour was going through, trying to explain to the members of the Department for Magical Games and Sports, that they could not go cheering every time they thought they had caught Sirius Black.

Then that evening Harry had the most terrific idea Violet had heard in a long time.

_Violet had just put the broccoli in the pot of boiling water when Harry, who had just finished setting the table, turned to look at her and said, “What if Black thinks I’m still with the Dursley’s?”_

_Violet’s eyes widened and she switched the stove and the oven off, at a record speed and exclaimed, “You are brilliant, Harry! That’s – that’s…” incredible; amazing; simply wonderful; better than anything her Aurors had come up with; all of the above. She ran to the hallway in a fluster and Harry followed her out, preening under her praise. She turned to look at him standing there like a lemon in the doorway, “Well, get your coat and shoes on then.”_

_Harry beamed._

So that lead them here, back to Little Whinging, at the front door of 4 Privet Drive.

She knocked on the door thrice and when she felt Harry stiffen beside her, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it in a comforting manner.

 _‘Who the ruddy hell could be at the door at this time?’_ was heard clearly through the door by Violet and Harry.

The door opened and a bony figure stood between the doorway.

“You!” it was Petunia, a very angry looking Petunia.

“Hello Sister!” Violet smiled brightly.

* * *

It had only taken Violet stunning Harry’s ‘Aunt Marge’ and a most fed-up Harry shouting, “Do you want to die or not?” for them to comply and let Violet set up the wards around their house, which would let her know immediately if someone had trespassed.

Violet had then proceeded to modify Marge’s memory, as to thinking her and Harry had never been there and then, she had, sadly, rennervated the ghastly woman.

_“You see it all the time with dogs, if there’s something wrong with the bitch there’s something wrong with the pup.” Violet snorted derisively, as she could feel Harry shaking with anger next to her, “You disagree, do you, girlie? What is it you do then? Can’t see a ring on those fingers.”_

_Petunia cut in quickly, “Oh, she’s unemployed.”_

_Violet’s eyes flickered dangerously to her sister, she then promptly pointed the wand at the beast of a woman much to the protest of the Dursley’s, “Stupefy.”_

_And then she fell to the floor with a satisfying thud._

_‘Something wrong with the bitch,’; ‘Can’t see a ring on those fingers,’; ‘Oh, she’s unemployed,’;_ Violet had never been more ashamed to call Petunia her sister. _Unemployed._ How Petunia could just sit there and feed into that woman’s lies as she insulted their dead sister was beyond her.

“She had no right to say those things.” Harry’s voice was low with anger. They were now sat on the pavement collecting their thoughts from the turbulent events that had just gone down. Hours had passed and the two of them now had rumbling stomachs.

Violet couldn’t even be bothered to think about how she was going to explain this to Madam Bones and Fudge tomorrow. She just grabbed Harry’s hand with her own and held it, she whispered, “I know.”

“They’re idiots. All of them. Why wouldn’t she just -?” He stopped as Violet held up her hand as a silencer. There had been a rustle in the bushes.

Both Harry and Violet were staring fixatedly at the bush in question. Violet and Harry took out their wands.

Suddenly, a pair of gleaming eyes had appeared between the bush. Violet brought her wand up and cast a silent _‘Homenum Revelio’,_ while Harry cast a ‘ _Lumos’,_ and nothing. No one was there.

Harry then stepped forward with his wand in the air and Violet barely had time to stop him before the huge triple decker bus knocked the two of them back on to the ground.

Then, by the time Violet had managed to convince Stan Shunpike that they had accidently stuck their wands out and the Knight Bus had zoomed off, the gleaming eyes had disappeared.

So, either, it had just been a stray dog, or Animagi were resistant to ‘Homenum Revelio’. Violet was praying on the former, but those grey eyes never steered too far from her memory.

* * *

Sirius had been taking a chance when he went to Little Whinging: he had no idea if Harry was still there, but he had to see, just to check.

He had hoped Violet had gained custody of him, hoped and hoped, hoped for those twelve long years; she was surely old enough by now, wasn’t she? He had also hoped to have gathered a peep at Violet too, only before he realised, he had no idea where she lived.

But luck had been in his favour once again; he had managed to kill two birds with one stone. There they had been, the both of them. Sirius couldn’t even force himself to wonder what they had been doing sat on the pavement, all that mattered was that they had been _there._ And Sirius had _seen_ them. _Together._

And it was surely the best thing that Sirius had seen in twelve years.

His Violet. Little Freckly Violet, who had never actually been all that little.

And Harry. His Godson. Little Prongs, who wasn’t all that little anymore.

It was the first time in twelve years that Sirius had managed to smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That came out a lot faster than I though it would have. 
> 
> Anywho, hope you like it! 
> 
> Thanks :)


	2. Chapter 2

The following two weeks before Harry went back to school, were two long weeks of absolutely no improvement. The Ministry was in shambles; everyone was stressed to the point of exhaustion; and no Sirius Black, which was the pinnacle of disappointment and annoyance.

Dumbledore had sent Violet a letter saying that, given the climate, it would be best if all horcrux talk ceased until Violet’s work life returned to some kind of gentler normalcy. Violet had been simultaneously relieved and disappointed, in all fairness, she didn’t think she had time to be talking about horcruxes.

Harry had spent this last week at Diagon Alley with the Weasleys and Hermione, buying all his schoolbooks and admiring the Firebolt. It had been a good thing, as the times Violet was getting up and going to bed were getting increasingly earlier and later, respectively, and Violet felt bad enough for the Grangers as it were, with Harry going over there nearly every day, no matter how many times Mrs Granger insisted that they were at work also and barely even noticed he had been there.

Violet would spend the day at work, pop into the Leaky Cauldron for Dinner and to speak with Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys, then go back to work for a few hours, before finally going home and sleeping for a smaller than normal amount of time, and then the cycle would start again.

Tonight, the pattern had fell in as much the same, with the only difference being that Harry went back to school the next morning. Violet had wanted to be able to say goodbye on the platform, but Sirius Black had decided otherwise. So that meant saying goodbye tonight.

Harry and Violet were both embraced by Harry’s bed, in the room that had served as Harry’s for the past week. When they broke apart, Harry said, “I’ll miss you.”

Violet smiled, “I’ll miss you, too. But you’ll probably be seeing me more often than not, during this year.”

“What? Why?” said Harry in confusion.

“Well, Dumbledore’s agreed to having the Dementors at Hogwarts, Merlin knows why, but Fudge also wants some humans investigating and I offered myself up for the task, so you’ll be seeing me once a week, investigating the grounds, and doing all that exciting Auror stuff.” Violet explained.

“But that’s great!” exclaimed Harry.

Violet smiled, as she ran her hand through his messy mop of hair, “Yeah?”

“Yeah! I get to show off my super cool Auror aunt to the rest of Hogwarts,” grinned Harry.

Violet laughed and kissed his forehead, “Super cool Auror aunt, eh? Think I quite like the sound of that.”

* * *

Remus Lupin was tired. Really bloody tired. As he often was after full moons.

But he needed to be on this train because there was a Dementor coming on board at some point during the latter half of the journey, to see if Sirius Black was sat in one of the compartments, trying to attack Harry Potter. And Dumbledore wasn’t about to let a train full of his school kids go defenceless against a Dementor.

So, here he was, attempting to drift off to sleep and failing miserably as the sensitivity of his ears picked up the clashing, banging, and shouting of students and parents alike.

And then the door slammed open and Remus nearly flinched.

“Who do you suppose that is?” A voice questioned, and Remus could only assume that the person in question was him.

“Professor R. J. Lupin.” Answered another voice, a female voice this time. _How did she know that?_

As if reading his mind, the same voice from before asked, “How d’you know that?”

Remus could hear her eyeroll as she spoke in an exasperated tone, “It’s on his suitcase.”

He remained the topic of conversation for a while longer, before a third voice cut in, “Do you think he’s really asleep?” The door was then shut, and due to the direction of the conversation Remus realised he was in a compartment with Harry Potter. Merlin’s pants.

Remus really wanted to just have a peak at his dead best friends’ son. Just a look. Just to see what he looked like, that was all. But he couldn’t, not yet.

He appeased himself, by reminding himself that he had all year to teach Harry. He could wait. Surely, he could wait, he had been waiting for twelve years now.

* * *

"You look stressed," remarked Kingsley at Violet from his own cubicle, as she stormed through the Auror Headquarters and straight into her cubicle.

"What are you actually doing?" asked Violet rudely. She felt stressed and tired and wholly fed up, with people just pissing about and acting with no initiative. They were here to catch a mass-murderer, what were they expecting her to do? Catch him herself? Actually, that was what it felt like at the minute. In all fairness, Kingsley was one of the only people doing his job properly and Violet's rudeness was uncalled for. She knew this and then went round into his cubicle to apologise, "I'm sorry, that was rude."

"You're alright," Kingsley waved away her apology, "It's your job to make sure we're all doing our job properly."

Violet rested her head on the cubicle wall, "I've got a newfound respect for Scrimgeour, this is harder than it looks."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, no one has ever escaped Azkaban before, 'these are unprecedented times'," he quoted Fudge and it made Violet laugh. "Besides, you're doing fine, everyone listens to you and most importantly, they respect and _like_ you."

Violet scoffed slightly, "Savage doesn't like me, not after yesterday." She had shouted louder than she ever had before at work at Savage yesterday, because he had gone and spent fifteen minutes too long on his lunch break, and not for the first time either. He had caught Violet in a terrible mood, but this was hardly the time to be wasting time at lunch. She felt that she was the only one taking this seriously, obviously she was wrong, but that didn't stop her from feeling it.

Kingsley laughed a little, "Your brummie accent comes out when you shout, did you know that?" Violet didn't believe him, "But either way, Savage was in the wrong, he had it coming. And that's not to say he doesn't respect you."

"I'll take your word for it."

* * *

Harry hadn’t planned to tell Violet about the Dementor on the train: he didn’t need another person thinking he was weak, let alone his ‘super cool Auror aunt’ (that was now his favourite way of addressing Violet, as it managed to aptly sum up Violet in one phrase.). But then she had mirror-called him that night telling him McGonagall had sent her an owl.

Harry felt like sinking into the floor with embarrassment.

“Dementors pray on the foulest of memories, the ones that produce the most suffering, fear and horror. To react like that does not make you weak Harry, it just means you’ve had an uncommonly hard life, so don’t you ever, ever tell me again that you’re weak.”

Harry had felt much better after that.

Although now he had distinct feelings of suspicion towards Violet, because well, how could he not, after the turn their conversation had taken:

_“How did the Dementor go away then?” asked Violet, she hardly imagined their compartment being able to produce a Patronus._

_“We were sat with the new Defence professor, Hermione said that after I fainted he said ‘None of us are hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks, go’ and did a spell, which made silvery stuff come out and the Dementor glided away.” Harry replied, dutifully showing Lupin’s promising skill._

_“Huh,” Violet began, “He can produce a Patronus, not many people can do that, what’s his name?”_

_“Professor R. J. Lupin -,” Harry was suddenly cut off by Violet choking on her tea._

_“Professor who?” spluttered Violet._

_“I can’t remember what Dumbledore said his first name was.” Harry said, looking suspiciously at Violet, “Do you know him or something?”_

Violet had then badly evaded his question, by quickly changing the subject to tell him that she would be there on Friday next week, because Fudge thought it would be a good idea to let Black settle into Hogwarts before they went hunting for him.

Her joke was poorly received, but before Harry got the chance to ask her about Professor Lupin again, she had disconnected her mirror.

Remus Lupin was a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. That was a problem on multiple accounts. And not only because he was a Werewolf.

Violet had found another problem to add to her ever-growing list.

She was starting to develop a most piercing headache.

* * *

Remus Lupin was feeling significantly less tired. In fact, you could say, he was feeling distinctly happier than he had in a long time.

He had always wanted to be a teacher, it was the perfect job for him, asides the Werewolf part, but Remus tried not to think about that too much. He felt fulfilled, relaxed and most of all not depressed, that was when he didn’t think about Sirius Black, but teaching was a very good distraction from depressing thoughts about traitorous best friends.

And Harry Potter. The name spoke for itself. His dead best friend’s son. Was _here_. Having lessons _from him_. Well, he hadn’t taught him yet, but he would, and that was the point.

And teacher’s meetings. What an interesting concept to be a part of, absolutely insane, or maybe Remus was still marvelling in the fact that he no longer had to call McGonagall ‘Professor’. Now that was absolutely insane.

This was the second teacher’s meeting he had ever been in, the first one having been during the summer, where the curriculum for each year had been discussed. This time Remus definitely felt much more confident, in speaking his thoughts and not worrying about all the teachers, bar Snape, scorning on his lycanthrope.

He took a sip of his tea, while Pomona (Professor Sprout’s first name, completely bonkers.) spoke about the new rules she wanted to impose on the Greenhouses, because some students, such as Neville Longbottom, wished to spend time out of lessons, learning and practising Herbology. Remus listened, albeit a little less intently than he probably should have been, but these matters didn’t really concern him.

The end of the meeting had come around quicker than Remus had thought it would, and Dumbledore was, presumably about to dismiss them, however he announced something that made Remus’ stomach sink.

“The Minister for Magic has, as you know, insisted on having the Dementors stationed around the Hogwarts grounds, for the recapture of Sirius Black,” Remus made no movement at the name, even though he could feel Snape’s eyes glaring daggers into the side of his head, “However, he has also insisted on the placement of two Aurors weekly, who will, every Friday, beginning from next week, come and inspect the grounds, in search of the escaped convict.”

 ~~Professor McGonagall~~ Minerva spoke up, “Do we know who the Aurors are, Albus?”

Remus’ head perked up with interest, and he noticed the twinkle present in Dumbledore’s eyes, when he replied, “I believe most of us do, Minerva.”

McGonagall thinned her lips in exasperation, “What are the _names_ of the Aurors, Albus?”

Remus was sure Dumbledore’s eyes flicked towards him, and then in the direction of Severus Snape, before he replied, “Nymphadora Tonks and Violet Evans.”

Remus choked on his own spit, and his sensitive ears definitely picked up a small groan that emitted from the back of Snape’s throat.

Well, at least that was something he and Snape had in common: a bizarre fear of Lily Evans’ younger sister.

McGonagall looked pleased.

* * *

Harry stared at Lupin suspiciously from his place at the Gryffindor table the following morning his call with Violet. He was trying to think where he had seen the man before. Violet definitely knew who he was, and she wasn’t going to tell Harry, which only meant that he would have to find out for himself.

Hermione and Ron had started arguing about Divination again, but Harry hadn’t taken the subject so he didn’t know what all the fuss was about, so he tried to block them out as he continued to stare at the new Defence Professor.

 _There must be some place I know him from,_ thought Harry ruefully, _but where?_

Professor Lupin caught Harry’s stare and smiled at him, Harry’s cheeks went slightly pink at being caught and he returned the smile awkwardly, before turning back to his breakfast. Harry could almost recognise his face, but he just couldn’t remember where from.

Hermione’s voice cut him out of his frustrated musings, “Come on, Harry, we have to go to Ancient Runes.”

Harry and Ron had quickly discovered Hermione’s time turner because she had managed to be in both Ancient Runes with Harry and Divination with Ron at the exact same time. Or rather, they had cornered her with confusion, and she had brought them to McGonagall’s office in a frenzy, who then told her to explain the situation to Harry and Ron and made both boys swear not to tell anyone.

On a different note, Harry was actually thoroughly enjoying Ancient Runes, Violet had told him that she had found it the most interesting of all the electives, and Harry would have to agree. She had also said, when he had suggested to her that he take Divination, that the subject was bullshit, and she would advise him, as an aunt, not to waste his own time looking into manky teacups.

The mystery around Professor Lupin had remained at the forefront of Harry’s mind for the following few days, and after their lesson with the boggart, which had Harry feeling even more pathetic, he had sought the very man himself.

“Erm… Professor Lupin,” Harry had said, as Lupin had turned to him with a friendly questioning look, Hermione and Ron were waiting outside for him, “Could I ask you a question?”

“Yes, I’m sure you could.” Lupin had joked with a smile on his face, as he gathered his belongings that were on one of the staffroom tables.

“May I ask you a question, then?” Harry corrected, with a slight ire that made Lupin’s smile grow wider.

Lupin nodded his head, “You may.”

Harry took in a deep breath, as Lupin turned around to look at him, “Do you know my aunt Violet?”

The smile was wiped of Lupin’s face, and he had suddenly become very flustered, “I – er – what makes you ask that?”

He had practically just confirmed to Harry that he did, indeed, know his aunt Violet, “She knows who you are, I’m positive, but she won’t tell me how.” Lupin suddenly looked very uncomfortable and Harry thought he saw some guilt swimming around in his eyes.

“Perhaps, this is a conversation for another time, I believe your friends are waiting for you outside.” And then he rushed himself out of the staffroom, before Harry could get another word in. Harry felt more frustrated than he had before.

Just who was Professor R. J. Lupin.

* * *

“Do you think we’re ever going to catch Black?” Tonks said to Violet as they walked up the main Hogsmeade road.

Before Violet could form an answer Madam Rosmerta caught sight of the two Aurors, as she swept the autumnal leaves from the accumulation by the Three Broomsticks door and shouted to Violet, “Alright, Vi? Off on your way to catch Black?”

“You know me Rosie, never one to miss a convicted criminal!” shouted Violet back, with a funny sort of grin on her face. Rosmerta laughed tipsily, before she resumed her sweeping. Violet turned back to Tonks and replied in a quick change of tone, “Honestly, at this rate, I would be surprised if we got one actual sighting within the next three years.”

Tonks sighed heavily, as she thought back to the past few weeks of absolute chaos, “But do you think we’d ever actually?”

“I think,” Violet let out a big gust of air, “under miraculous circumstances, we might just have a chance.” And wasn’t that just the truth.

Looking dejected, Tonks said wistfully, “Where’s Mad-Eye when you need him?”

“Retired.” Violet deadpanned. And then the both of them snorted at the fact that Alastor Moody had truly gone and retired. This year seemed to have been the year for the impossible.

They walked up the path to the castle that everybody knew and loved, reminiscing about their own times as students. Tonks was laughing as she said, “You were Head Girl when I was in First Year, you probably don’t remember me, but I thought you were so cool.”

Violet laughed and replied, “No, I do remember, you, Charlie Weasley and some other friends of yours would go running about the halls to see who could get to their next lesson fastest. I’m surprised McGonagall didn’t castrate you all.”

Tonks just grinned broadly, “You caught us once, at night, and then all of us thought we were about to be expelled, but then you pointed down one of the halls and said, ‘McGonagall never checks that way until 10’.”

“Dunno what Dumbledore was thinking really, when he made me Head Girl, don’t think I ever managed to take points from anyone.” Violet said as she remembered her confusion when she opened the Hogwarts letter that had held her Head Girl badge.

“That’s because nobody ever did anything in front of you, for fearing that you’d think them uncool.” Answered Tonks seriously.

“First of all, that’s ludicrous,” said Violet incredulously, “and second of all, that’s completely untrue!”

“No, it’s not!” Tonks insisted, “You don’t remember? I remember the girls in my year used be obsessed with you. It was a bit weird, actually,” Tonks added in a bit of an afterthought, “They always spoke about wanting to ask you how you got your hair like that, but they always got too scared whenever they saw you coming.”

“How I got my hair -? You’ve got to be joking!” That was preposterous, completely unbelievable. What rubbish.

“I’m not! It’s true, I’m surprised you never noticed.” Tonks suddenly grinned ferally, and she nudged Violet as she said, “You were like a _celebrity!”_

Violet shoved Tonks _hard_ , which only caused Tonks to laugh harder, “I was not! You take that back!” Violet had brought out her wand and pointed it at the pink-haired girl, “I swear to Merlin, Tonks, I will hex you!”

An unimpressed cough broke the two out of their bubble, and Violet suddenly realised they had made it all the way to the castle and were now staring into the blazing figure that was Minerva McGonagall.

“Ah! – erm – hello Professor!” Violet began cheerily, as she let go of the front of Tonks’ robes and stuffed her wand back up her sleeve.

McGonagall observed them over her square spectacles, and remarked dryly, “Afternoon Evans, Tonks, you are to be escorted to the Headmaster’s office for a quick briefing, before you begin your search.” She nodded at each of them and lead them, presumably to Dumbledore’s office, like they had no idea where it was.

Tonks turned to face Violet, winked, and mouthed ‘celebrity’ at her. Violet nearly throttled the girl. She should really make it more known that she had the power to fire the young Auror.

* * *

Remus hadn’t seen Violet Evans in twelve years, well that was actually untrue, he had seen her, in the Daily Prophet, on a number of occasions, but he hadn’t physically seen her since she was fourteen. More precisely, he believed it to have been Christmas 1980, when the war had allowed him to see her last. What with him off on Werewolf missions and Lily and James going into hiding, there had been no opportunity.

He knows he should have reached out to her, during those twelve years, he could only imagine how terrible it had been for her, she had been fifteen and she had lost everything in one night. He thought with shame, that she had actually sent him one letter, which he still had somewhere in his tiny cottage, but he hadn’t known what to say back, so he hadn’t said anything at all.

So, as he saw Violet Evans enter the Great Hall, that dinner, looking every bit as beautiful as her fourteen-year-old self had promised to be, he found himself at loss for coherent thoughts. To make matters worse, he could hear McGonagall and Flitwick chatting animatedly about the woman in question right next to him.

“… excellent at Charms, I remember, gave Lily a good run for her money.”

“Yes, the Evans sisters were outstanding students, some of the best we’ve ever had…”

Remus tuned them out, but he could not help but keep staring at the youngest Evans, in curiosity. He remembered when he had read the article that pronounced Violet’s custody of Harry, Remus had never been more relieved. He also remembered getting out a piece of parchment, dipping his quill in ink and writing ‘ _Dear Violet,’_ before he had swiftly crumpled up the parchment and chucked it in the bin. He just hadn’t been able to do it. Hadn’t been able to bring himself to – Remus wasn’t exactly sure.

He watched fascinatedly, as students from all houses turned and watched the Deputy Head Auror, sit down with her nephew and his friends at the table. Even if it was just a quick glance or a prolonged stare at the red head, it was made all the same. It was almost laughable at the fact that Violet Evans still didn’t even recognise her ability to draw attention.

It came singlehandedly with the way that she carried herself, thought Remus. If he remembered correctly, and he was sure that he did, she naturally held herself with this power that was automatically held over anyone she came across. It had been like that when he had first met her at eleven and it was still like that as he watched her at, Remus paused, how old was she now? 27? Yes, 27.

Thick wavy red hair, bright green eyes, sharp pronounced cheekbones, snowy like skin, a scattering of freckles across her nose and red pouted lips. Stood regally at 5’11. And the dangerous edge around her.

It was no wonder, really, that she held power. It was natural, and that’s not to mention her character. The sheer brilliance of her mind and the kindness of her heart, but also of her charm, her wit, her ability to read someone and fully understand them, without even trying.

Quite simply incomparable, except, maybe, to the memory of her dead sister.

But, Remus stopped himself, Violet had never been exactly like Lily. They were similar in many ways, of course, but not the same. No. Hard to spot if you did not know the two of them well or had known, depending on how you looked at it.

Remus could only speak for the four years he had watched Violet, and the ten years he had got to watch Lily, but there were definite differences. It was hard to sum up, but Violet had always been a bit more street smart than Lily, perhaps that was due to the losses Violet had had at such an early age; Violet had lost her parents at twelve, while Lily had lost hers at eighteen. Lily had possessed an uncommon kindness for all those she met, but that simultaneously made her slightly naïve. Violet had never had that. She had been slightly rougher around the edges. More dangerous.

It was then suddenly that Remus realised he had been staring at the side of Violet’s head for the better part of twenty minutes and that had, obviously, caught the attention of the Auror herself. Her green eyes met Remus’ own and there seemed to be a couple of moments of nothing, just plain silence, as though it was only them in the world.

He half expected Violet to march up to the table and slap him, Merlin knows he deserved it. But then she surprised him, and herself too by the looks of it, as she grinned widely.

And Remus could not help it as he grinned widely back.

* * *

It was the Monday after her and Tonks had wandered around Hogwarts in vain search for Sirius Black. Quite unsurprisingly, they had not found Sirius Black. Not even anything close. But Violet had seen Remus Lupin, which is something that Violet would consider a success.

She had been angry at him, a long time ago, when Violet seemed to be angry at everything; she had tried to reach out to him, sent him a letter, but had received no reply. She had waited for an owl for months before she accepted the fact that Remus wasn’t going to write back, so she decided that she wasn’t going to try and speak to someone who wasn’t going to speak back.

But she wasn’t angry anymore. So, she had smiled at him because she had been happy to see him. And he had smiled back; now that was what Violet called a success.

And next Friday, maybe she would work up the courage to speak to him.

Violet hadn’t realised she had been so lost in her thoughts, which meant that as Dawlish shouted into her cubicle, “Evans! Are you coming out to give us instructions or not?” she jumped violently and knocked the pot of quills on to the floor. She cursed and shouted hastily back to Dawlish, “Yeah, yeah! Just give me a second!”

She crouched down and began to recollect the quills strewn all over the floor, by her desk. It was then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a cabinet that made a foreboding chill lodge itself in her spine. She suddenly felt as though she had been possessed. Almost as if she were drawn by a string to the cabinet, she stood up and moved across the floor lethargically. Step by step, heel in front of toe, over and over.

Until she reached her caller. 

It was the cabinet labelled: _Criminal Trials._

Roughly pulling open the drawer, she ransacked the draw for the file on Sirius Black. She saw all three of the Lestrange files, Crouch Jr.’s, Dolohov’s, countless other Death Eaters, but there wasn’t one for Sirius Black. Violet then brought out her wand and cast _Accio Sirius Black’s trial folder._

And when nothing came, she cast it again.

And then again.

And she kept casting it until it finally sunk into her that there was no trial folder for Sirius Black.

Which meant that Sirius Black had never had a trial.

Of course, he hadn’t, thought Violet as her back fell heavily into the filing cabinet, because if there had been a trial, she would _have been there_. She would have _remembered it._

Suddenly, Violet was glad she hadn’t told anybody that he was an Animagus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels like a bit of a filler of sorts; a bit stagnated. 
> 
> And that was a lot of Remus Lupin. 
> 
> But I hope you like it either way! Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

Violet sat there in stunned silence for what could have been hours. She felt as though a missing piece of her brain had reconnected itself like a puzzle piece. As though she had gone through an extraordinary enlightenment. How could she not have seen this sooner?

Although Violet knew not having a trial did not certify innocence, she did not appear to care, as it certainly increased the chances. And Violet wanted Sirius to be innocent so, _so_ bad. She wanted everything to have been a huge misunderstanding and a mistake to have been made. Most of all, Violet wanted to know _why,_ wanted to shake him and ask if she ever meant anything to him, ask if James, Lily and Harry ever meant _anything._ She needed an answer, or she feared she would end up going insane.

She then regained her bearings and stood up straight and practically ran through the Auror office. As she passed the group of Aurors in the meeting room, she shouted in, “Kingsley, you’re in charge, you know what we’re doing, it’s the same as every other day. I’ve got to go speak to Bones.”

Rushing through the halls of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, Violet did not stop to apologise to anybody she bumped into in her haste. When she reached to door to the Head’s office, she slammed her fist into the door repeatedly. Once she got the faint, “Come in,” Violet pushed open the door with vigour.

“Evans, have you misplaced the time for our meeting?” said Bones mildly as she observed Violet’s flustered state.

“No, no, it’s at 10 tomorrow, but you said to tell you if anything important happens.” Violet replied a little breathlessly.

Bones’ raised her eyebrow and nodded her head, “Proceed.”

Violet stared for a second, before she took a deep breath and said, “Sirius Black never had a trial.”

Bones’ eyes widened significantly, “And how did you come about this information?”

“He doesn’t have a trial folder. Ma’am, he needs a trial.” Violet had made her way to Bones’ desk and sat down in the chair opposite.

“I don’t know if you have noticed, Evans, but Sirius Black is no longer in Azkaban, he is currently wandering around Britain as an escaped convict.” Bones replied sarcastically.

Violet felt anger bubbling up inside her, “Well, he was never convicted, so I suppose that just makes him an escaped prisoner, not a convict.” She would get this trial if it was the last thing she did, “It is the law, funny that I should be reminding you of this, that any criminal must have a trial before being sentenced.”

“Crouch was Head of Department at the end of the war, he evoked several laws, as you have so kindly pointed out, and by doing so sent Black into Azkaban with a trial.”

“He’s not Head of Department anymore, thank Merlin for that, you are. The laws were reinstated eleven years ago, by you. I reckon it would be quite ironic if the Head for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement couldn’t enforce the law.” Violet was playing quite a dangerous game by insulting Bones, but she needed that trial, and some Department Head was not going to stop her.

They sat in silence for a moment, while Bones debated her options, then she spoke again, “And if I say, no, that Black will not be given a trial if we catch him, what will you do?”

Violet stared into the depths of Bones’ brown eyes and replied without hesitation, “I will take the D.M.L.E. to court, for the breaching of several laws.”

Bones eyed Violet cautiously, “You said several weeks ago, when Black first escaped, that your personal afflictions were hardly of importance in a case such as this.” Violet blanched, “Are you expecting Black to be innocent, Evans?”

Yes.

“No, what I’m expecting is for the D.M.L.E. to follow their own laws.” Violet paused before she carried on, “If by some chance Black is innocent, he will surely want a trial to prove it and so, we may not even have to catch him.”

“Are you insinuating that Black will hand himself in?” asked Bones in a manner that Violet could not place.

“If he is innocent and if a trial is ensured,” completed Violet. Truly, Violet had no idea if Sirius would do anything of the like, she was merely bluffing her way through this pissing contest.

“And who would represent Black at his trial? If I were to agree.”

“I will.” Violet had given her answer before she could even register the potential consequences behind that decision. However, a representative is required for a defendant and Violet couldn’t see anyone else jumping for the role.

“How well versed are you in Magical Law, Evans?” asked Bones shrewdly.

“Well enough,” replied Violet blankly.

Bones exhaled through her nose exasperatedly, “The Minister will not be happy.”

Violet nearly slammed her hand down on the table, “This is the law! Fudge has no say, whether he’s happy or not!”

Bones looked as though she wanted to laugh at Violet comments but professionally and dutifully did not, “He might fire you, should there be an outcry of disagreement.”

“Well then I’ll take him to court too.”

“What for?”

“Firing an employee without a valid reason.”

Bones laughed and it was the first time Violet had seen her do so, and if Violet wasn’t so overly exerted with emotions, she might have felt proud of herself. Bones then sobered herself up and stared at Violet, “You’ve got stamina, Evans, I’ll give you that.” she then paused again, before picking up the papers that she had put down when Violet had come in, she headed towards the door and said, “I will announce it later today that Sirius Black never had a trial, and if he were to be caught, he would receive said trial and be represented by you. You may comment to the Prophet if you wish, but I would refrain from doing so until Fudge has made his.”

The Head of the D.M.L.E. then left the office and Violet felt like doing a happy dance.

* * *

It was the next day when the Prophet came out with the news about Sirius Black’s lack of trial, and to put it mildly, the journalists around the country were going crazy. It was like moths to a flame, as it often was with journalists and news, but Violet had never seen anything like this before.

The second she stepped into the Atrium that evening, to answer questions about her statement, huge cameras with flashing lights started hounding her and men and women shouting questions at her.

It was all a jumble of sounds and flashing lights from cameras that Violet could barely make out what any of them were saying. However, as she walked past a male journalist, she caught his question, “What do you think your late sister would have to say about the trial?”

Violet snarled inwardly at that; _I wasn’t aware that dead people had to say anything._ She made her way to the podium where Fudge had just finished answering his questions, which had gone better than Violet had hoped: the injustice surrounding Sirius not having a trial was so huge that Fudge had essentially been backed into a corner and once again been made to float with the majority of the crowd.

Fudge had basically deflected all fault on to Barty Crouch and his tyrannical reign at the end of the War; Crouch had essentially been thrown under a bus by Fudge, and Violet would have felt bad had he not been such an arse.

_Justice must be instated where justice is a requisition._

Her statement had been short and sweet, much like Fudge’s. Fortunately, it had been well received, she had gotten several letters from strangers telling her they had her full support. She had also gotten a couple from avid Ministry hags, telling her she was a disgrace to the Wizarding World, and that she should go jump off a cliff and die, but that wasn’t important. What was important was that she had a majority behind her, and that she also had the backing of all the Aurors, including Scrimgeour, who begrudgingly admitted he supported her decision.

It was paramount, because if the trial were to go wrong the chances of her being fired were much slimmer.

All the questions ceased when she held up her hand. No sound was made until Violet pointed at a female journalist at the front, who began the press conference, by asking, “Melody Jones, for the Wizarding World News. What do you hope to gain from the trial?”

Violet just replied blandly, “The truth.”

She had the full intention of appearing as bland and uninterested as possible, because the more emotion you reveal to journalists the less you have to fall back on, and Violet did not want that. She had the feeling this entire mess would be one of the most emotionally taxing things she would ever do as an Auror, so she needed her own mental support.

Violet pointed to a male in the second row, who smiled at her and asked, “Philip Pegg for the Magical Times. You said you would represent Black at the trial,” Violet nodded, she had said that, “why?”

“A representative is required for any defendant, so unless someone else would like to offer themselves up to the task, I shall live up to my word.” Violet had never wanted to be anywhere else more than she did right this second.

She pointed to another godforsaken journalist, “Jemima Walter for the Western Wizarding News. Do you, as Black’s representative, have any evidence to suggest that Black is innocent?” Murmurs began to float around the room like wildfire. Fucking vultures, the lot of them.

“Whoever said Black was innocent?” The best thing you could do was throw a question back at a journalist. It was rule 2 on Violet’s list of how to deal with nosy journalists; use a question as an answer. Rule 1 was: never reveal everything you know, or you can kiss your hope goodbye.

Another reporter cut in, “So you don’t believe Black could be innocent?” Violet’s head turned to the voice that she recognised more than any other journalist’s. The voice of _Rita bloody Skeeter._ The woman that single-handedly manages to dismantle the Ministry with one article. Sirius Black’s escape was something like finding gold for Skeeter and she had spent the last month and a half ribbing into every single defence mechanism the Ministry had, including the Auror force. What made it even worse was that she was _so fucking good._ She was so manipulative with her words, and if Violet wasn’t at the bottom end of its force, she might find Skeeter’s articles an enjoyable read.

Violet merely raised an eyebrow, to show that she clearly thought she was better than the question. Power ploys were rule 3. “I believe that justice must be instated where justice is a requisition.”

“You believe it to be a requisition that a criminal, who committed such horrific crimes, deserves justice?” Violet’s eyes searched the crowd for the source of the voice and landed upon a male figure near the back of the hoard. More murmurs had broken out and Violet felt something bubbling in the pit of her stomach. She wanted nothing more than to smash each of these journalists over the head with a frying pan.

“I just said that, didn’t I? Mr…?” Violet stared deeply at the middle-aged man in question, who had not introduced himself before his question, like Skeeter, however everyone knew Skeeter, but Violet didn’t know this one.

She searched him for recognition, but she couldn’t say she had ever seen his face before. However, she could already see his narrow mindedness; a supporter of the Death Penalty most likely, or in the Wizarding World’s case, the Dementor’s Kiss. Bad people should be punished, and good people should be rewarded.

Nothing was ever that simple.

“Goldberg, Miss Evans. I was merely asking because of what Black did to your family, especially now that you have custody of Mr Potter. You must be incredibly mature to be able to represent such a horrible man at his trial.”

Violet’s eyes narrowed, “I do not recall asking for your motives behind your question.”

Rule 3. Mr Goldberg was trying to gain an upper hand, and that was not something Violet would let pass by. She made a mental note to find out all she could about this Mr Goldberg.

“My apologies, Miss Evans.” He bowed his head, but Violet could feel the smugness rolling off him in waves, all because he had now opened the door to the Sirius Black’s betrayal of the Potters on Halloween ’81. The details of his betrayal were not that well known, it had been disclosed through the fuss of Voldemort being gone and Harry Potter being the saviour, never mind the fact that two people had been murdered for it.

Yes. Violet was going to research Mr. Goldberg and find out just who the hell he thought he was.

* * *

The fuss surrounding Sirius’ lack of trial had now peaked and Violet’s life was slowly calming down again. Nevertheless, she had now entered in a bit of a conundrum as to what she was going to about the ever-problematic Sirius Black himself.

The obvious thing to do was catch him, keep going resolutely until she got him. Sirius would then have to be detained in a Ministry cell for a week, before the trial, where Violet could formulate her case in Sirius’ defence. But there was something about that that didn’t seem so obvious, maybe it was the whole idea of Violet _defending_ Sirius that seemed outrageously preposterous.

What the hell had she been thinking? She wasn’t a lawyer, or the Magical equivalent of that. She was an Auror and indirectly a victim of his crimes.

From what she had read about Magical Law and trials, it was a corrupt system with power being a huge contributing factor as to how the jury could swing. Take Lucius Malfoy as an example when he bribed and threatened the entire Hogwarts Board into removing Dumbledore and got Fudge to send Hagrid to Azkaban, even when he was innocent.

It was proof that Hagrid could hardly have had a fair trial when he was convicted all those years ago.

It was also proof that she or rather, Sirius, would need a good jury. In other words, they would need at least seven members of the Council to be from neutral backgrounds, with no hidden motives. The worst thing that could happen is if Lucius Malfoy and all his payed lackies made up for over half the jury.

It was a chance; they would have to wait and see. It was a risk, and if it all went to pot, both her and Sirius were fucked. If it went wrong, her entire reputation would be thrown out the window and her career would end.

This meant that the best thing she could do was request a trial by Veritaserum, but that brought Violet back to the fact that she needed to catch Sirius and stop hoping for him to be innocent, because Violet did not want to end up torn to pieces again, she had already had enough of that. She was not going to be hurt like that ever again.

It also brought her back to the fact that Fudge would have Sirius be subject to the Dementor’s Kiss if he were found to be guilty. And Violet wouldn’t stand for that, she didn’t care if he was guilty, if he had betrayed her and James and Lily, if he had killed Peter in pure rage, Sirius Black was not going to become subject to the Dementor’s Kiss. Not while Violet could do something about it.

Violet felt like banging her head against the table; how could she ‘de-corrupt’ an entire societal system for jurisdiction without being fired?

Violet did bash her head on the table. A new Minister would be a good start, because the current one was an utterly useless political machine for appearance.

She was going back to Hogwarts tomorrow, which could be considered a good thing, if it weren’t for the fact that Violet needed to have a pending conversation with a certain Werewolf about their mutual traitorous best friend and with a teenage boy, who would also probably be interested in this weeks events surrounding his criminal Godfather.

Violet could feel another headache developing.

* * *

“Would you like some tea?” asked Remus, as Violet sat on the opposite side of his desk staring around his office. Her eyes shot towards him and Remus felt a little more than awkward.

“Er – yeah, alright then.” Violet nearly cringed at her wording choice.

Remus nodded and went to fill his teapot. Violet’s eyes then began to wander around the room again staring at the many creatures that filled his room and landed on the Hinkypunks that were situated in the corner of Remus’ office. Violet smiled; it was such a Remus thing to teach about. Remus watched Violet looking at the Hinkypunks and he said as a conversation starter, “They’re Hinkypunks, came in just last night.”

Violet nodded, “ _Lumos Duo,”_ that was the spell to solidify a Hinkypunk, she had learnt about them in Fourth Year.

Remus smiled but Violet could tell something was forcing it, “That’s right.” He poured the tea into two chipped teacups and Violet took hers politely.

Violet smiled back crookedly, “You’ve been a teacher too long,” and then they fell into a silence that wasn’t too far off awkward. She cradled her cup before she looked at Remus directly, she didn’t want it to be like this, whatever _this_ was, “The full moon is next week.”

The effect was almost immediate as Remus flinched harshly. It was as though he thought Violet would have forgotten that he was a Werewolf, besides the effects of the full moon were already clear, Remus looked pale and sickly. He spoke coldly as he stared back at Violet, “I know.”

It was Violet’s turn to flinch, she felt like she had been scolded by a parent and it strangely annoyed Violet, “I didn’t…er,” Violet took a deep breath, “I mean, how are you going to…?” Violet finished by gesturing pathetically with her free hand.

“Same as always, I suppose.” Remus answered just as coldly as before, and Violet seemed to sense that it was more that just her question that had directed his anger towards her.

She narrowed her eyes, what was he angry at her for? “That’s not what I meant,” she began tersely, “what I should have asked is: how is it that a Werewolf is teaching at a school under the law that Umbridge passed a few years ago?” The moment the words had left Violet’s throat she regretted them, that was not how she had envisioned the conversation going.

It appeared that Remus too, was regretful of his words and sighed dejectedly, “I’m sorry, that wasn’t how I wanted this to go, shall we start this again?”

Violet agreed all too hurriedly, “Yeah, yeah.” It was then when it hit Violet like a tonne of bricks, the reason Remus was angry at her, “You’re angry at me for agreeing to represent Sirius, aren’t you?” She had voiced her thoughts, before she had a second to work the way of the restarted conversation.

Remus placed his teacup down and ran a hand down his face, he looked older than Violet could ever have imagined Remus getting, “No. Yes. I don’t know. Not angry, just confused, I guess. It all came out so fast.”

Violet grimaced, “It came out fast for me too.” She then proceeded to down the contents of her teacup in remembrance of the past few days.

“I was just surprised, is all; I thought you would be the last person to represent _him_ at a trial.” Remus said ‘him’ with such disdain Violet thought she saw spit fly out of Remus’ mouth.

Unconsciously, Violet felt a surge of defensive anger, before she pushed it away, not half as disgusted with herself as she should have been. Maybe she had taken too keenly to the role of representative for the defendant. “You don’t think he deserves a trial?” asked Violet warily.

“I was more surprised that you thought he did.” Remus replied.

Violet furrowed her brow, her statement rang out through her head ‘ _Justice must be instated where justice is a requisition’_ , and she could practically hear it ringing through Remus’ head too. Somehow, she thought that statement was going to come back to bite her in the arse. “I don’t think it’s quite that simple, Moony.”

The use of the nickname felt like a sudden cast back into both of their childhoods, and suddenly Violet felt very inadequate. Remus’ head perked up: no one had called him that in many, _many_ years, and in an odd way it felt nice and very emotional. So emotional that he could feel his eyes burning and his eyes filling up with tears.

Violet froze for a second. She double checked to make sure she was not seeing things and that Remus Lupin was indeed crying, although barely. She froze for another second, as she realised, she had never seen Remus Lupin cry and now had absolutely no idea what to do.

In fact, Violet realised, she had never seen a _man_ cry, apart from if you counted James at Harry’s birth, but they had been more joyful and exhausted tears.

She debated just sitting there and letting Remus sort himself out, which he already seemed to be doing as he wiped his eyes with his tatted sleeve, however that was soon overpowered by the urge to give him a hug. So that was what she did.

She stood up and walked around the desk, where she dragged Remus up from his chair and wrapped her arms around him with her head resting on his shoulder. They stood like that for a while, just the two of them, engulfed in loss.

At least something positive had come out of all this mess.

* * *

Another month passed with nothing of importance occurring and Violet could feel herself getting restless, she needed something to happen, she needed any form of improvement or just something other that the repetitive nonsense that was monotonously driving her through the day.

Really the only good thing happening was that she and Remus spent an hour together every Friday evening, getting to know each other again. And Harry had got his answer as to who Professor Lupin was, although Violet had a feeling, he just felt a bit awkward now, as though he didn’t know how to behave with Remus.

It was now Halloween once again, Violet’s least favourite day of the year, the only day of the year that she allowed herself to cry over the loss of her sister and her brother. Every year she went to their graves and laid down a Reith of lilies and sat there for however long she felt like.

So that’s where she was now, Godric’s Hollow, sat on the edge of the graveyard, staring at the road that lead up to James and Lily’s little cottage, imagining what their final moments on Earth looked like. Imagining Voldemort killing the both of them. Imagining the whites of their eyes disappearing as they realised this was the end. That they were never going to see each other again. Never going to see their child, their sister, their brothers.

All because of one man: Sirius Black. Or maybe two men: Sirius Black and Tom Riddle.

But then, was it?

Violet stopped herself, before she got too carried away. She would be here for hours if she went through that cycle of thought.

The autumn wind rushed past her and Violet closed her eyes while the tears were blown to the side and off her face, never to be seen again. It didn’t matter though because more fell as their replacement.

Gone.

They had been gone for so long, but Violet could still feel it in the very pit of her stomach. That pain, that raw pain of realising that she was never going to speak to either of them again. That pain of knowing they had had so much left to do. That pain of knowing there was nothing she could do about it.

_Lily. Her sister. That light to anyone’s darkness._

_James. Her brother. That idiotic dork, who had just loved and loved until his very last breath._

_Gone._

_There were some days, though far and few between, that Violet wished she were gone too._

Violet closed her eyes and let more tears fall down the tracks ingrained on her cheeks; _the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._ James and Lily had destroyed their last enemy. She had chosen that herself, stolen the concept from the Bible. Violet supposed she could be prolific if she so desired.

Violet then delved deeper into her own thoughts and memories. She had tried and tried, tried her hardest to do as Dumbledore said, but maybe she wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet, maybe she would never be ready. And that was okay.

Well, it would have to be, wouldn’t it? Because what else was she supposed to do?

Eventually, Violet stopped crying and she was left with that light-headed feeling that gave her a dull ache at the very back of her skull. Violet ignored it. She wiped her face, took in a shaky breath, and turned her head to stare solemnly at the Church, which served as Lily and James’ resting place. 

Violet didn’t believe in God, despite having been raised a Catholic. In fact, the only member of her family that had still believed in God after magic had been revealed was Petunia. Her parents had been lax followers of Christ at best, but Petunia had found something in Catholicism. Violet had no idea what, but she could remember at the age of eight, when Petunia would be holed up in her bedroom pouring over the Bible at the age of 16.

Her head turned away to stare at the mass collection of graves. The dead don’t go anywhere. They were just dead. No Heaven. No Hell. Just dead.

Funny that the more Violet said it, the less she wanted it to be true.

Moments ticked away with time, as she stared down the midnight black road and slowly brought herself out of her mind, until she was struck with a sudden thought.

Her eyes flew open wide and her back was bolted upright.

_Appare Vestigium_

The spell to show traces of recently used magic an area.

The scene between Sirius and Peter had never been investigated, just cleared up, where bits of people had been found as remnants of the explosion. That meant the magic that had been used that day was still resonate in the area, even if it had happened 12 years ago.

People had just assumed what had happened from the accounts of witnesses, but Muggles were hardly good witnesses in the presence of magic. So, no one actually knew what had happened. Which meant that there was a chance, a very small chance mind, that all was not what it seemed.

Just what had happened between Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. Violet hadn’t thought about it that much, with her primary focus being on the crime he committed to her family, but now the door had been opened and the possibilities seemed endless.

Feeling sort of sick and slightly wobbly on her feet, Violet stood up to head up to the Auror office, to see if she could find the exact address. Violet was going to get an answer to this.

However, luck hadn’t completely fallen on her side that evening, as the moment she got back to Auror Headquarters, with every intention of staying up late into the night investigating a crime scene, she was mobbed by a hoard of bright pink hair. “Tonks! What are you doing here? I thought you went home,” asked Violet in surprise at the sight of the young Auror.

“I did, but then Scrimgeour fire-called me saying Sirius Black broke into Hogwarts a couple of hours ago –, “

“Shit!” Violet whispered violently, this was a problem on more than one level, because her plans for the night would have to be abandoned.

“Yeah, I know, we’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the past two hours, where were you?” inquired Tonks.

Violet waved her hand to dismiss the question and hoped that her eyes were no longer red, “Nowhere, it doesn’t matter. Are we to go search the grounds then?”

“Mm-hmm,” Tonks nodded, “According to Scrimgeour who got the report directly from Dumbledore, Black attacked the portrait of the Fat Lady.”

“The Gryffindor Common room,” mumbled Violet, this had definitely taken her several steps back.

“Yeah, all the teachers are searching, but Fudge wants us to go too.” They had started walking out of the Ministry to reach the Floo, so they could get directly into Dumbledore’s office. Tonks added, in hope of lightening the mood, “At least we know that he is actually at Hogwarts.”

Violet snorted as she nodded back at another Ministry worker, “At least.”

* * *

Surprise, surprise, they had not found Sirius Black. Quite frankly, Violet was getting tired of saying so, everyone was getting tired of saying so. It was a couple days after Halloween and Violet had blocked a solid afternoon out from work, so that she could go investigate the infamous street that Sirius had blown up.

The more Violet thought about it, the more she realised there was a huge, gaping hole in her knowledge as to what had happened, there were so many questions. The first one being: why had Sirius gone after Peter? What had Peter done to Sirius?

Violet was starting to develop a hunch, but she didn’t dare start speculating, or more accurately, hoping, until she had solid proof.

She walked down the High Street, with her eyes set on her destination, twisting and twirling through countless Muggles. She could feel anticipation building and manifesting itself inside her. She could feel it, that something wasn’t right, that she had missed something, something that would prove her theory.

As she entered the alleyway, she didn’t check to see if anybody was watching her. She fell into the wall at the side of her, which worked as a sort of camouflage, so that she could cast a _Repello Muggletum._

Once cast, she walked further down the secluded place, the huge hole that had been gauged out of the concrete, had been repaired. It had been left to be repaired by Muggles, because it was easier if they saw the mess that the ‘gas explosion’ had caused, as it made it easier for them to believe it, even if their memories had been slightly modified.

She stood at the end trying to picture what exactly had happened: Sirius had tracked down Peter, for a reason Violet could guess, Peter then in ‘heart-broken betrayal’ cried out to Sirius, Sirius then cursed Peter and blew up everything within a 20 foot radius.

That was her theory anyway, she just had to prove it with _Appare Vestigium._

So, that was what she did, she crouched down with bated breath and circled her wand as she cast the spell. Golden mist came flowing out of the end and if Violet wasn’t so caught up in nerves, she would have recognized that it was beautiful.

The flecks of gold fell gracefully down to the ground, settling at the very far end of the alley. Violet went over cautiously. The patch of gold, which was the exact placement of magic, was nearly touching the wall. That meant if it had been Sirius who cast it, there would have been no room for Peter to have been cornered. It meant, more importantly, that if Sirius had been there, the curse would have followed through in the opposite direction to which it did.

She placed her wand on the patch and whispered, “ _Revelio,”_ A misty hologram appeared before Violet’s eyes, she just stared as the blasting curse, which she recognized by the obvious signs of _confringo,_ destroyed everything within sight. Dots were connecting in Violet’s mind at record speed.

Peter Pettigrew had cast the curse.

Which firstly meant that Sirius was completely innocent of the crimes he was accused of. However, this did not yet prove Sirius was innocent of betraying her family.

Violet gritted her teeth hard.

Her head turned quickly to another patch about a foot away, directly parallel with the first, she was determined to find proof. Another _Revelio_ , and Violet saw a severing charm and a finger dropping to the floor.

Her heart was pumping as though she had just run a marathon.

She twisted her head right and left to see if there was something else that might just solidify Violet’s thoughts. To the right of her she caught sight of another golden patch, about a meter from a drain, and it had just confirmed to Violet what had happened.

Just to be sure, with her heart in her mouth, she brought her wand down and there it was: the Animagi transformation. Human to rat.

Violet just fell heavily down on the ground and laughed.

And laughed. And laughed. And laughed. Until her stomach hurt.

Because she had got it wrong.

Everyone had got it wrong.

What a joke.

Twelve years that had gone to waste, because she hadn’t had faith in love.

Hilarious.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * A bit of a warning: There's quite a graphic description of suffocation, mentions of suicide (although barely) and a lot of foul language on Violet's part. *
> 
> So don't read it if you're eight or something.
> 
> But other than that, I hope you enjoy it; it's a big one.

Peter Pettigrew was still alive.

Sirius Black had spent twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he did not commit.

And Violet Evans had gone insane. Well not quite, but near enough.

She was sat at home, on her sofa, shaking her leg up and down, up and down, up and down. Violet then stood up abruptly and started pacing in front of her fireplace, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. _For fuck’s sake_. She couldn’t think straight.

So, she stormed outside to go speak to her horses. Perhaps she had gone insane.

Her legs were powering underneath her mind, up the grassy hill, up towards her stable. It was cold. But Violet liked it, because as the wind breezed icily past her it felt as though it was taking her problems away from the torment of her mind.

Sunset was approaching. The sky was a mix of stunning purple, blue and red. The North-West of England was truly a beautiful place to live.

Grabbing the plastic bucket that had tipped over from the force of the wind and the shovel that was hanging from a peg. She made her way to the large gated pen that Amber, and Ebony spent their nights in.

Her two horses were still out in the huge field that Violet lived on, and once Violet had finished shovelling their shit, she would go out and lead them in for the night. She undid the lock and placed the bucket on the ground. Violet was used to the smell, so she ploughed on and dug the shovel into the hay.

Down, up, and out. Down, up, and out. Down, up, and out.

Down, up, and out, until her hands were raw.

It was about an hour later that Violet had finally cleared out all the shit from the last couple of days. She stared at the now pitch-black sky; her eyes swivelled around the clear sky in sure search for the one star that meant more to her than anything. They latched. Sirius. The brightest star in the sky.

Her head suddenly felt clear, or maybe empty was a better word. Her lips were parted, and her breath came out in puffs of hot air mixed with the chill of the November night.

It was the 3rd, Sirius’ birthday. Violet had never felt so sorry in all her life.

And then the tears began to fall.

They didn’t stop while she led Amber and Ebony into the stable, with freshly laid hay. They didn’t stop while she kissed the top of each horse’s head. They didn’t stop while she switched off the lights around her house.

It could almost be considered torture as Violet reached under her bed and into a box that Violet had never been able to let go of and pulled out a framed photograph of 14-year-old Violet and 20-year-old Sirius, who laughed together while stuffing mince pies into their mouths. The movements of the magical picture repeating itself, over and over.

Violet slumped by the side of her bed and let out a huge wrecking sob.

* * *

“Professor Lupin is going to teach me how to defend myself against Dementors,” Harry half spoke, half murmured, while Violet untangled the Christmas lights from where she had untimely stuffed them back in the box last year. Violet hadn’t heard him.

Her head bobbed up to look at him, “What was that?”

Harry was hanging the Christmas decorations on the tree, so he turned around and said again, a little more confident this time, “Professor Lupin is going to teach me how to defend myself against Dementors,”

Violet raised her eyebrows, “The Patronus?”

Harry nodded his head, “Yeah, I think so.” He then stopped abruptly as though he was going to say something more but then thought better of it.

The lights had been untangled and Violet cheered under her breath, she made a mental note to never just stuff them away again. She stood up and walked towards the tree, with the lights trailing behind her. She was then stood next to Harry, who she now noticed reached just below her chin, she tutted, “You’ve gotten taller.”

Harry remarked her drily, “Funny that.”

Violet gave him a side long look and Harry grinned cheekily up at her, she then began to set the lights on the tree in a spiral motion, “Do you know anything about the Patronus charm?” she asked curiously.

“Other than that it gets rid of Dementors?” replied Harry who was still smiling.

“Yes, Harry, other than that,” Violet responded with an eyeroll.

“Well – er – no, then,” Harry said cheerily.

Violet was now crouched on the floor, twisting the lights around the bottom of the tree. Once she had finished, she leant back, satisfied with her work, and went to plug them in. A flick of the switch later and the tree alighted. She turned back to Harry and said, “Would you like me to show you how it works?”

“Yes!” Harry agreed readily, but then calmed himself by repeating more calmly, “Yeah, yeah,”

The two of them sat in front of the fire, facing one another. Violet began by explaining the general theory behind the spell, “It works as a sort of guardian, and it doesn’t just have to be used to get rid of Dementors; it’s just the only known repellent for a Dementor. The spell is _Expecto Patronum,_ but I’m sure Remus will tell you that.” Harry nodded interestedly, “The first time you do it, it won’t be fully corporeal, most likely, you’ll probably get a few wisps.”

Harry butted in, “What does it look like when it’s fully… copreal?” he finished uncertainly, knowing that he had gotten the word wrong.

Violet didn’t chastise him, she just smiled and said, “Corporeal. It’s different to each person, but it forms as an animal that represents you.”

Harry’s eyes were wide, “What? Like a spirit animal?”

“Yeah, I suppose –,”

Harry cut in again, eager to know more, “What does yours look like?” Violet pursed her lips teasingly and gave him a look to suggest that he shut up and let her get to that. Harry grinned sheepishly, “Right, sorry.”

“As I was saying, for the spell to work, you need intent behind it, much like any spell. However, this one slightly differs, in that you need happiness and lots of it,” explained Violet.

“Happiness?” inquired Harry.

“Mm-hmm, yep,” she saw Harry’s confused face and made a diversion, “Say you were casting _Expelliarmus_ , what would you be thinking while you said the spell?”

“Erm – that I wanted to disarm the person opposite me?” answered Harry, uncertainly.

“Okay, but deeper than that, imagine you’re facing your worst enemy, although I hope you’d be using more than _Expelliarmus,_ and you fire the spell at them, what’s the emotion your feeling?” Violet’s eyes bored into Harry’s and Harry shifted slightly.

“I don’t – er – angry, I guess, determined to defeat them.” Harry was imagining himself opposite Voldemort.

“Right, exactly, the angrier and more determined you are the more powerful the _Expelliarmus_ will be. It works exactly the same with the Patronus, except that you need happiness instead of anger. The way most people do it is by thinking of a happy memory, but if that isn’t strong enough you can imagine something. It needs to be powerful though, the thought. It needs to fill your whole body up with pure happiness,” said Violet. She had every bit of faith that Harry would be able to do it, she could see the want in his eyes.

Harry looked at her, and asked, albeit a little hesitantly, “What do you think of?”

Violet closed her eyes and smiled, “I think of you, and Lily and James and my parents and everyone who I’ve ever loved really.” She refrained from saying Sirius, as she was developing her plan on how she would be able to reveal the truth and she really didn’t want to have an argument with Harry on Christmas Eve. They had already come close, when it had been revealed that Violet had announced herself Sirius’ representative.

Harry then proceeded to completely ruin the moment by asking, “Aunt Petunia?”

Violet scoffed a laugh and opened her eyes to stare at Harry who was laughing at her, “I’ll have you know, that she wasn’t always like that.”

“Oh, don’t tell me, she used to wear leather jackets and ride a motorbike,” Harry commented sarcastically. Violet and Harry then burst out laughing at the picture. The two of them then kept adding to the picture by suggesting more and more absurd things, like Petunia having a nose ring and tattoos, and by the end of it they both had tears pouring out of their eyes.

Violet wiped her eyes and partially sobered herself up, then said, “No, but in all seriousness, I do love her, you know. She’s my sister. I just wish she wasn’t such a…a…”

Bitch.

“Horrible person?” offered Harry.

That worked too.

“Yeah,” her shoulders then sagged, “I don’t know, she’s just so _weird_. I don’t understand how she could just sit there and _do that to you._ She was jealous of Lily, only a fool wouldn’t be able to see that, and then she was jealous of me. She was eight years older than me; you would have thought she would have gotten over it. A 19-year-old jealous of an eleven-year-old. It’s ridiculous if you think about it.”

Harry, curious to know more, asked, “How come you were so much younger?”

Violet smiled wryly, she would have thought that was obvious, “My parents either got lax with contraception or decided they wanted another baby six years after Lily was born.” Harry blushed, and Violet carried on, “I never got a chance to ask them, but I was loved all the same so I suppose it doesn’t make a great deal of difference whether I was planned or not.”

They then fell into a lulled silence, before Harry spoke up again quietly, “She always stopped Vernon when he got really angry.”

Violet looked angry as she replied sarcastically, “Oh, I’m so pleased.” Then she backtracked, as she realised her words might have been received as inconsiderate, “No, but Harry, you don’t understand, in the Summer between my fifth and sixth year I had to stay with them, Petunia was my acting legal guardian, for two years before I turned seventeen. It was Lily after Mum and Dad died, but then… anyway, I stayed with them, and I looked after you for those two months, while I was sixteen. Got you to walk and talk much more confidently actually, you were a bit rubbish -,”

She was interrupted by an offended Harry, “Hey!”

Violet ignored him, with a twitch of her lips, “We stayed in the smallest bedroom of the house, it wasn’t great and there was a guest bedroom that we could have been in, but regardless, it was enough. I was left alone with you and I thought that once I left, they would just sort of ignore you too. And what I mean by that is, just leave you be, feed you enough, let you learn properly at primary school, that was what I was hoping for. Until I had built myself a stable career, home and life, so that I could win your custody and bring you here with me.”

The both of them stared into the fire, and Harry spoke again, “Except that’s not what they did,” his voice was cold, but Violet could tell he was more sad than angry.

“No, and that’s what makes me more angry, is that Petunia _chose_ to put you in that cupboard, she _chose_ not to feed you properly, she chose not to because she was jealous of her dead sister. I don’t care that Vernon is a horrible person, I don’t care about him whatsoever, he could die in a ditch and I wouldn’t bat an eyelid, but I care about Petunia. I would die for her because she’s my sister. Lily would have died for her because she was her sister. And Petunia decided to repay us both by doing that.”

They fell into silence again, the fire crackled in front of the both of them, and Harry broke it again, by asking, “Why didn’t you visit?”

Violet had been expecting this question for a long time and her reasoning was pathetic, but what else could she say but the truth, “I was a mess. A really big mess. I was depressed for however many years, I knew it was bad at the time, but, God, when I look back now, I’m surprised I even managed to get here today. It’s hard to explain, I still don’t really know myself what happened to me. It’s almost as though I retracted into myself, and I thought that I couldn’t go see you, not until I was better. Which is just so stupid, because it would have been better for you if I had gone back, but I wasn’t thinking about it like that.”

Harry let out a faint, “Oh.” He had never really thought about how his parent’s deaths had affected Violet; she had always seemed so strong and put together. But to hear that Violet had been suicidal, even the word made Harry’s stomach churn. A life without Violet seemed unimaginable. He then turned to Violet and said, “Can you show me the Patronus?”

Violet smiled, closed her eyes, waved her wand in a fluid motion, and out came a huge silvery tiger. Violet opened her eyes to see Harry staring at awe as her tiger pounced about the living room. Harry was beaming, “Of course, you’re a tiger!”

Violet beamed too; she was rather proud of her tiger, it was a bloody cool animal.

* * *

“Right, and remember if someone asks you where the Firebolt came from -,”

“Say that you bought it for me,” finished Harry, the two were stood on Platform 9 ¾ with ten minutes to spare before the train left.

The case of the Firebolt had been easy to configure, and yes, Violet had checked it over for any hidden curses, in case it had not been Sirius, but there had been nothing wrong with it. Harry had been more than chuffed.

Violet pulled Harry in for a hug and whispered in his ear, “Kick Malfoy’s arse, yeah?”

Harry pulled away and winked back, “I’ll do more than kick it,”

Violet raised an eyebrow and smirked in amusement, now that was James Potter’s son, “Tell me if you get the Patronus.” She then kissed his forehead and sent him off in the direction of the train, “Love you!”

He hauled his trunk and Hedwig’s cage away, “Love you too!”

And off he went.

As the huge, steaming read train slowly began to chug away, Violet could not help but scoff at herself, because wasn’t she just the most ineffable hypocrite. She had shouted at Harry last year because he hadn’t told her about him going into the Chamber and now here she stood, conspiring to meet his godfather, who he believed to have betrayed his parents and she hadn’t told him a word.

Violet tried to make her actions seem more excusable by telling herself that it was paramount that no one knew about Sirius and Peter yet. Her plan was risky at best, but if everything fell into place, Sirius would go free and Peter would go punished.

The first part of her plan had been to write Sirius a letter.

She needed to speak to him, because a huge part of her risky plan was having Sirius involved and she couldn’t do that with him wandering about Hogwarts as Padfoot.

She had written:

_Padfoot,_

_I know that Peter is still alive, and that he was Secret Keeper. Found out a couple of weeks ago and I’m not really sure what to say._

_I haven’t told anyone else, not even Harry. I don’t know if that’s comforting or not. Regardless, I have somewhat of an idea, and the only way for it to work is if I meet you._

_I’m presuming that you don’t have a quill or a calendar, so send this back if you want to meet me (Shrieking Shack, 15 th January, early afternoon (I also doubt you have a clock, so I don’t suppose we need an exact time.)) and if you don’t know when that is, I’ve drawn a lunar calendar on a piece of parchment, you’ll have seen it by now, and marked the date (follow the Moon). _

_If you don’t want to, tough shit, I’ll find you anyway._

_Freckles_

She had spent longer on that letter than she thought she would have; it was almost embarrassing the amount of times she had crossed things out and rewritten before she had settled on the final draft.

It had been sent out towards the end of November and she had received it back about a week later, with the calendar missing and a muddy pawprint at the bottom of the page. Violet had grinned broadly; step one, check.

The date today was the 7th, she had eight days. Step two was ago.

* * *

Violet had cast a disillusionment charm on herself before she had apparated, so that when she landed with the remarkable crack, no one would be able to see her. She didn’t know if that made it more suspicious than not, but Violet was too agitated to care.

She had also brought with her a bag, that had an undetectable extension charm, that was holding enough food to last Sirius about a week, or a few days if he didn’t pace it out. Violet could hardly imagine he was eating three-course meals every night.

Her feet stormed up the path towards the Shrieking Shack, doubt firing itself all around her mind. The doubtful thoughts ranged from _What if I have gotten everything completely wrong and Sirius has set up a trap to kill me?_ To _What if Sirius has died of starvation?_ Before she realised that she was being ridiculous and that she was more nervous than she cared to admit.

When she reached the door to the abandoned house that Remus had spent countless nights in, she could feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears. A rhythmic thud. Her hand reached out for the door handle. She hesitated. Let out a short breath. Squared her shoulders. Before she pushed it open and swiftly stepped inside and then closed the door again.

Her eyes flitted around the wooden shack and then she brought out her wand to remove the disillusionment charm. Violet then swivelled round and placed a few protective enchantments around the derelict building, just in case. Taking a step forward, time appeared to slow dramatically, her boots created a sound that bounced off the walls. Time then caught up with her and pushed her along the floor and up the creaking stairs.

When she reached the top, her heart was thudding faster and faster.

And then there it was, the gentle padding of paws across the wooden floor. Violet’s whole body twisted in its direction.

A huge black dog stood raggedly all of ten foot in front of her. Violet thought her heart had stopped beating.

Padfoot. Sirius. Right fucking there. Violet was quite surprised she hadn’t passed out.

Suddenly, in its place stood the human Sirius Black. Who, for the record, looked _terrible._ But that didn’t matter because he was there. Right fucking there.

His hair was matted and knotted, he had a beard that could probably rival Dumbledore’s in length, his eyes looked haunted, his cheeks had sunken in, he looked to be drowning in his Azkaban robes and he was staring at Violet just as Violet was staring at him.

And the two of them just stood there like vegetables, until Sirius croaked, “Violet,”

Violet then dropped her bag and practically launched herself at Sirius, who barely had enough strength to stay upright with the force at which Violet had projected herself.

He smelt worse than horse shit and Violet could feel his bones through her Auror robes, but none of that mattered, not to her anyway. Not as she just soaked in the fact that she was here, with Sirius, a person she had loved, then hated, then hated again, because she had realised she had never stopped loving him, even after what she thought he had done.

The two of them were holding on to each other tighter than either of them had ever held on to anything, as though the other would start to evaporate any second. Violet then heard something in her ear, something deep and raspy. She was confused for a moment, before she realised that Sirius was laughing.

Her heart stopped again, for a split second she thought that Sirius had actually set up a trap for her.

And then she heard, in the same croaky voice, “I never thought I’d see you again.”

Her shoulders sagged. Something blossomed inside her chest. And then she burst into impromptu tears.

“I thought – I didn’t – I can’t -,” her words were a garbled mess between sobs. Violet didn’t think she had ever cried like this before, she was simultaneously sad and happy, and she could confirm that it was probably the world’s most bizarre feeling.

Sirius just held on tighter, and it just made Violet sob harder.

* * *

“Sirius, slow down, you’ll be sick,” commented Violet, as she watched Sirius inhale the food, she had brought with her. They were now sat on the floor of the Shrieking Shack in what looked like a bedroom, but it was so torn down, it was hard to tell.

He shoved yet another roll of bread down his throat and mumbled back, “Don’t care,”

Hermione’s cat Crookshanks was leisurely prowling in front of Violet, almost as if he was judging her presence as to whether she could be trusted. Violet held out her hand and he came. She smiled when she ran her hand across his fur, being a tiger at soul was good for somethings.

Violet dropped it, but then said, “There’s a flask of water and tea in there somewhere, it refills automatically.” Sirius might have replied but it was all jumbled between the food flying down his throat.

Once Sirius had had his fill, Violet peaked into the bag and then looked drily up at Sirius, “That was supposed to last you a week.” There was all of about two bread rolls and three muffins left. She had put statis charms on all of it, so none of it would go stale, however there didn’t seem to have been a point because Sirius had demolished it before it had a chance to fester.

Sirius who was working on demolishing the water, stopped gulping for a second and looked at Violet, he then said, “You’ve gotten old.”

Violet scoffed jestingly, “I’m not thirty yet, you don’t get to call me old till then.” Sirius then started frowning, like he was trying to desperately work something out. Violet took a guess and said, “I’m 27.”

There was no malice behind her words, of course not, but it didn’t stop Sirius frowning deeper. A few moments passed, before he blurted out, “May 6th,”

Her head popped up from where she had been fiddling with the hem of her Auror robes, “Hmm?”

“May 6th, your birthday,” repeated Sirius.

“November 3rd, your birthday,” stated Violet back.

Neither of them was a huge celebrator of their birthday; never thought it was anything worth celebrating, the day of birth.

Sirius then barked out a laugh, and Violet realised how much she had missed it, “You’ve not changed though.”

Violet wasn’t sure what to say, so she just smiled lightly and said, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Abruptly, Sirius changed the topic and asked, “What’s Harry like? Does he see you a lot?”

It was Violet’s turn to laugh, “He lives with me, and he’s…he’s, God Sirius, he’s everything and more, he’s smart and funny and kind and brave and –,” Violet paused to take a breath, “they would be so proud and it kills me every day, because they’ll never get to _see_ -,” she stopped again, because she had stumbled on to James and Lily.

He looked grim and solemn as they sat there in silence, he broke it first, by saying, “I should’ve stayed, Harry was, is my Godson, and I just let Hagrid take him. And you, you were only fifteen, for fuck’s sake, you had no one else. I went to track Peter down, knowing that I wouldn’t come back, one way or another. It would have been so much better if I’d just _fucking stayed._ ” It was then that Violet knew he had spent the last twelve years thinking about what he _should’ve_ done.

Violet stared at him, “Maybe, maybe it would’ve been better if you’d stayed. But you didn’t and it’s alright, because Harry’s fine, he’s happy at least and I’m fine. You’re not, and I don’t think Remus is either, but we’re all still here, so I suppose that counts for something.”

“Remus?” questioned Sirius.

“Thinks you’re a traitorous bastard,” said Violet frankly.

Sirius grimaced, “Harry?”

“Hates you.”

“Wonderful.”

“He won’t though, not when he knows the truth; he’ll love you.” Violet finished assuredly, she then added as an afterthought, “He’ll be angry at me, for not telling him about you, but, well, we’ll get to that when it comes.”

Sirius was watching Violet intently, before he asked, “How did you know? About me?”

“Think I knew a long time ago, but I only believed it after I used _Appare Vestigium_ ,” replied Violet honestly.

“The magic residue charm?” he said, surprised, then it clicked, “Oh, _oh._ ”

Violet smiled, sort of wryly and then changed the subject, “You’ll be pleased to know that you’ve sent the entire Ministry into chaos.”

Sirius laughed loudly again, and Violet noted that he looked much younger with a grin, “How did Fudge take it?”

She lent back against the wall, as she relaxed into the conversation and laughed, “It was incredible really, he just sort of blustered about the Ministry for the first two weeks, trying to assure everybody that everything was ok and that we, Aurors and Dementors, would catch you in no time. But then that went to shit, so he picked up a new regime of just deflect all fault onto us Aurors, it’s rather ridiculous actually. Then these past few months he’s pissed his way through Ministerial duties, not that that’s really any different, it’s just your name has been hanging over his head like a sword.”

Grinning, Sirius felt, that for a moment, all would be alright in the world, he reminisced, “You should have seen his face when I asked for the newspaper, it was like I’d asked him to strip naked in front of me.”

Violet snorted at his crass remark and added, “You should have seen his face when Bones told him you were getting a trial.”

“What?” Sirius’ hoarse voice cracked in disbelief, he thought he had misheard.

“What? You don’t –? Of course, you don’t – oh, that was stupid of me,” blustered Violet, she hadn’t let slip of the information in the way she had wanted. Well, there was no taking it back now, so she carried on a little pathetically, “I’m going to be your representative at your trial, when you get caught, that is.”

Sirius just kind of sat there and digested the new information, Violet also just kind of sat there, waiting for Sirius to react. Eventually, he said, “So, this was your idea then, was it?” Violet couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but she could hazard a guess.

“Not quite, my idea is a bit more dramatic than that. Besides, I’ll concur, we’re going to need a witness for the defence,” expanded Violet, with a hint of a smirk. She was quite proud of her plan if she did say so herself.

Sirius stared at Violet as though he could not quite believe what she was implying. Then he laughed sharply, “I was right, you’ve not changed a bit.”

Violet was glad he thought so.

* * *

Step two was complete, and step three was ago.

Step three had lead Violet here, the edge of the Forbidden Forest, with Padfoot next to her, to complete what was probably the riskiest part of her three-part plan. If this went wrong again, the trial would be much harder for Violet to navigate, and she was no lawyer; the trial had to be easy to control, because the prosecution would be much better than her.

Sirius and Violet had devised a plan to get Peter, which had been in action from the end of January. Their first attempt of the plan had gone horribly, horribly wrong; they had managed to get Sirius into Gryffindor Tower and he had been so close, but Ron had screamed loud enough, for Sirius to have to scarper without Peter.

Time had then ticked into March and Violet had asked Harry for the Marauder’s Map, which he had gotten just before Christmas, from the Weasley twins. However, Harry had managed to be caught with it by Snape, and then somehow, Harry had spectacularly lost the Map to Remus.

Violet had then coerced Remus into giving it to her, because how else better to ‘catch’ Sirius. She and Sirius had debated telling Remus about their plans but had then decided that it was probably best if they told him once they had found Peter.

And they had found Peter, months later than they had wanted, but they had found him nonetheless, in Hagrid’s hut, of all places.

It was a Friday, she was warranted to be here, which was a positive, because Fudge was also here for the execution of Hagrid’s Hippogriff. Tonks was out in Hogsmeade, investigating a sighting that Violet had made, by confounding a couple of shopkeepers into thinking Sirius had snuck in for food. She almost felt bad about it.

The original plan for today, was for Violet to go into Hagrid’s pretending she was getting Ron’s rat to deliver it back to him and then stage a fight between her and Sirius, which would result in Violet ‘catching’ him, and, all the better, the Minister was here to watch. Except their plans had already been faltered, because just as Violet stood up to make her way to Hagrid’s, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley had appeared by Hagrid’s front door, under the Invisibility Cloak.

Her eyes widened and she turned back to Padfoot, “ _Shit!_ Padfoot, shit!” She was not letting this happen again, there was only so long they could wait before term ended and Wormtail would be taken back to the Weasley household with Ron.

Sirius seemed to be thinking along the same lines, as he was growling at the Map. Violet debated just going in there anyway and ripping that fucking rat out of Ron’s hands and explaining herself later.

She stood up to do so and even made it a few steps out of the Forest, after she had quickly voiced her plan to Padfoot. But then the second she did, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley appeared by the back door and Dumbledore, Fudge and Macnair were walking towards Hargrid’s Hut.

Violet doubled back to their hiding spot, cursing quietly. She then took one look at their hiding spot and cursed again. Padfoot wasn’t there.

She took one look at the Map and then swore violently, “You fucking moron, Sirius Black.”

* * *

With the Map tightly gripped in her left hand and her wand firm in her right, she took one look at the Hippogriff and then at the Map, there was a little bit of time. She couldn’t just let Malfoy win again.

A quick glance at the figures inside Hagrid’s Hut.

_Relashio_

The chain fell from Buckbeak’s neck, and Violet approached the Hippogriff with a dead ferret in one hand and a bowed back.

It stared at her and she stared at it back. _Come on, move! I’m trying to save you!_

It bowed back and Violet felt herself sigh in relief that she would not die from being trampled over by a Hippogriff.

And then it stood up and started walking slowly towards her, she led it backwards, right back into the Forest and hauled the ferret as far as she could. It galloped straight into the depths of the Forest and away from Walden Macnair and his great big bloody axe.

Violet turned quickly, without a second to spare, she sprinted through the grounds, following the chaotically moving dots on the Map.

Her legs kept pounding, and it was times like this that Violet wished she had become an Animagus too. She kept going and going, because, in all honesty, she was absolutely terrified that Sirius would kill Peter, they needed him alive, much more than they needed him dead.

She stood in front of the Whomping Willow, panting and stared at the Map, Sirius, Ron and Peter were one group who had now just about reached the Shrieking Shack and Harry and Hermione were another group who had just started walking down the secret passage.

Holding up her wand, Violet levitated a branch to press on the knot at the entrance of the tree. It froze.

Violet folded up the Map and stuffed it into her pocket.

And if Violet had looked at the Map again, she would have seen the dot representing Remus Lupin charging in her direction.

* * *

The second Violet reached the Shrieking Shack her ears were shrouded with a huge crash and the sounds of a massive brawl could be heard for miles. Violet raced up the stairs, where not months before she had reunited emotionally with Sirius.

She burst into the room and all eyes flew to her figure in the doorway. Her eyes ran quickly over the situation: Harry and Sirius were on the floor wrestling each other, though they had stopped in light of Violet’s appearance, Hermione looked like she had been trying to help Harry in the wrestling match and was also relieved by Violet’s appearance and finally, Ron was sat on the bed trying his hardest to suppress the pain from his broken leg, as he had his own wrestling match with that fucking rat.

Violet pointed her wand at Harry and Sirius and nodded her head as a sign to move apart from each other. Harry complied and grabbed Hermione’s and pulled them back towards Ron. She made eye-contact with Sirius, who had remained on the floor, with Crookshanks on top of him, her wand was pointed at him, although in no means to attack as Harry thought.

Catching sight of wands that were strewn across the floor, Violet went over and picked them up, she then turned to the three third years, but kept her eyes fixated on the rat. She spoke slowly and confidently, “Ron, I need you to –,”

However, before she got chance to finish her sentence, Remus burst through the doors, just as Violet had done moments prior. His wand was pointed rigidly at Sirius, who by now had stood up, and Violet fell back immediately to protect Sirius.

Everybody looked at her in confusion, her body was securely in front of Sirius with her wand pointed back at Remus, she slipped Sirius a wand just in case Remus decided to do something crazy. She spoke again for the second time, with her wand still high in the air, “Remus, lower your wand.” When he hesitated, Violet added firmly, “Please, just trust me for a moment. Remus, please.”

He lowered his wand, but his posture was still on the offensive, he looked between Violet and Sirius and Sirius and Violet, “What -?”

But Violet didn’t let him finish, they were wasting time and from the corner of her eye she could see Sirius glaring at Peter, she turned back to the trio, “Ron, I need you to give me your rat.”

She could hear the clogs turning in Remus’ mind, so she shoved the Marauder’s Map into his hands. Ron was more than confused, “Scabbers? What’s Scabbers got to do with anything?”

“Everything. Ron, please,” pleaded Violet again, she slowly made her way over to the Weasley in question, with her hand stretched out in reach for the wriggling rat.

Behind her, Remus was muttering, “ _But then why hasn’t he shown himself…unless you switched…without telling me…”_

Remus and Sirius then must have embraced, like the idiots they are, because Hermione shouted louder than Violet could have ever imagined the girl being able to, “NO!” All heads turned to face the frantic girl, “He’s been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too, Harry!” Violet went to butt in, but Hermione kept shouting, “He’s a werewolf!”

The news only came as a surprise to one member of the group, and that was Ron Weasley. Violet had a feeling these weren’t the desired effects Hermione had been going for. Sirius then took the opportunity and lunged at Ron, or rather, Peter and Violet grabbed at his robes, “Sirius - Sirius! Stop! You’re – hurting – him!” Ron was howling in pain from his leg as Sirius leaned over him reaching for Wormtail, who was wriggling and writhing more than ever.

Sirius stood back up and looked at Violet furiously, Violet stood her ground and stared back just as furiously. She spoke at him lowly and dangerously, “Witness for the defence only works if the witness is alive.” He had agreed to capture Peter and not kill him, Violet had not spent seven months working on this plan for him to fuck it all up in one day.

Violet didn’t dwell on it for very long, but she had seen a glint in Sirius’ eye, one that she had never seen before, and she would be lying if she said it hadn’t terrified her. 

He then averted his gaze back to Peter and then conceded and backed away slightly, but his gaze on Peter remained unwavering.

Violet took a deep breath and turned to face Harry who was looking more confused than ever, “Harry, just do me one thing, please, just listen, just listen to us, before you do something you might regret.”

Harry deliberated this and looked at Violet, then at Remus, then at Sirius, and then back to Violet. Harry trusted Violet more than anybody else in the world, and Violet knew this, he would trust her blindly straight through hell, and so he jerked his head, as a nod.

Ron then, rather comically, said “You’re all mad, I’m off!” He then attempted to stand up, before Harry pushed him back down on to the bed and told him he would hurt his leg even more, if he started to walk.

Violet then turned to Remus and made her way to stand next to Sirius, “Be quick about it, Remus, we need to get out of here before Fudge leaves.”

Remus didn’t question her plans or her words, just nodded. It was best if Remus explained it, he was the most level-headed of the three, and the least vindictive of them too. He started by addressing Hermione’s accusations, “I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I most certainly do not want Harry dead,” he gestured back to Violet and Sirius, “none of us do. However, I do not deny it, I am a werewolf.”

Harry spoke up for the first time, “I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.” If Violet wasn’t so caught up in adrenaline, she might have been proud.

Ron made a sound of indignation, “Harry, are you off your rocker? He’s a werewolf!” As if that explained everything.

Harry kept his eyes on Remus, “Yes _, I know that_ , I’ve known for ages -,”

That took most of the room by surprise, Hermione most of all, “ _You’ve_ known for ages?”

All eyes flicked to Hermione, causing her to blush; Violet hadn’t realised she was like that, or that she thought Harry wasn’t clever. Harry bristled a bit, “I guessed, then I asked Violet, who told me to ask Professor Lupin in our Patronus lessons and he told me I guessed right. But that’s not important, I still don’t understand why it matters.”

“It matters a great deal, Harry, because it explains why Violet and Sirius are so insistent on getting their hands-on Ron’s rat,” explained Remus.

Ron half-shouted, half-asked again, “What has Scabbers got to do with anything?”

Sirius was still snarling, uncannily like a dog, at the rat, and Violet was almost tempted to join him. Remus cut straight to the truth, “That rat is no ordinary rat, Ron. That rat is Peter Pettigrew, in his Animagus form.”

The reaction from the three Gryffindors was actually quite amusing, Hermione cried faintly, “Ridiculous,” and Ron seemed to be muttering gibberish, while Harry just turned to look at Violet as though they were all supposed to turn around and announce the entire thing had been a massive joke.

Violet glanced at her watch, this was taking far too long, they didn’t have time to piss about, they could give the finer details later. She stepped forward and towards Harry, she looked him dead on in the eyes and said, “You know about Prongs, you know about Padfoot, you know about Moony and now we’ve just told you about Wormtail.”

All eyes were on her, but she just stared at Harry, who had clogs whirring inside his head. Violet had told him that his dad had been an Animagus years ago and that his nickname had been Prongs because he was a stag. She confirmed to Harry that Sirius Black was an Animagus too when he had got his hands on the Map, Harry guessed that one of the names had been Sirius’, Violet had told him it was Padfoot. When Remus had confirmed to Harry that he was indeed a werewolf, she had told him his name had been on the Map too, as Moony.

So that left Wormtail. Violet hadn’t told Harry a word about Peter Pettigrew, which was now coming back to bite her in the arse, but she could see it forming inside his head. He stared back at Violet, with a look to suggest he trusted her, but he could not be sure, and Violet could work with that.

Harry kept his eyes on Violet’s form, which was now very close to his own, “You said Black was the Secret Keeper, you told me it was him,” Harry jerked his head in the direction of Sirius, who blanched at the mention, “He told me he as good as killed my parents.”

“I was wrong. Everyone was wrong. Sirius was never Secret Keeper, they swapped at the last minute -,”

Violet was interrupted by Sirius, who had decided now was a good a time as any to explain his words, “I suggested that James and Lily should change Secret Keeper, because I thought I was too obvious. I suggested that they use Peter instead, because who would have thought that little Peter Pettigrew could be the Potters Secret Keeper. And I was right, no one did think, except they were all on the wrong side of the war, because it turns out that little Peter Pettigrew was Voldemort’s little insider to the Order. I as good as killed them because I was stupid enough to believe that little Peter would always be by our side, for better or for worse.” With each word he spoke he edged closer to Ron, who like Hermione, had only an inkling of what they were talking about. Harry hadn’t told them about the Secret Keeper business.

“Ron, give them Scabbers.” Harry ordered, he had to know.

Ron squawked in outrage, as he tried to edge away as best as he could from the on-coming Sirius Black and Violet Evans, Remus then intervened by saying, “Ron, if Scabbers isn’t Peter, no harm will come to him.”

Ron just edged away further and Violet grew frustrated, “That rat has been in your family for twelve years, rats don’t live that long, surely you cannot deny that. That rat has a toe missing, all they could find of Peter was his finger, seems a bit coincidental, doesn’t it? He’s not been looking too great, has he? Wonder why that it,”

Ron weakly defended his rat, “It’s because that cat has been terrorising him,” he pointed in the direction of the orange cat.

Violet smiled, but she was not amused, “No it’s not, Ron, and I think you know it too. That rat was looking terrible before Hermione bought Crookshanks. One might suggest, it started when Sirius escaped Azkaban.”

Hermione spoke up as well, “Ron, give him to them. The spell you’re going to use, it’s painless, isn’t it?”

“Yes –,”

“- Yes,”

“That depends if he stays still, or not,” snarled Sirius, who was now fully at his wits end and yanked Wormtail out of Ron’s grip.

Sirius extended his hand that held Peter, who was now squealing and twisting and turning, but Sirius had a vice grip on the back of his neck. Violet, Remus and Sirius pointed their wands at the rat and simultaneously muttered the spell that would show Peter as his true traitorous form.

And then there he was. Peter Fucking Pettigrew, snivelling like the bastard he was.

“Hello Peter,” greeted Remus as though he had just turned up late for tea, “we were just talking about you.”

Keeping one eye and a wand on Peter, Violet turned slightly to Harry, “Do you believe us now?”

Harry, who had been staring at the pathetic piece of shit that Peter was, just sort of stared at Violet and said, “Yeah, I do.”

Then Peter made the massive mistake of talking.

“I didn’t do it! I would never – he’s lying, Remus, surely you must see that!” He was cowering into his own body, with his eyes darting about in the direction of the door, desperate for a way out and it rattled Violet in a way she had never felt before. She could feel it, in her bones, in her very core.

The ever-collected Remus just responded mildly, “I find it hard to believe that an innocent man would spend twelve years hiding as a rat.”

“I was hiding from him!” Peter lugged his head in the direction that Sirius was standing in, “I knew he would escape Azkaban to come back for me! He knows such dark magic, learning all those tricks from You-Know-Who!”

Sirius laughed coldly, that suggested heavily that he did not find Peter’s comments funny, “You knew, did you? No, I think you were hiding from Voldemort’s supporters. They won’t be too happy to hear that you’re alive, will they?”

Peter flinched and then turned around to face Violet, she could feel it getting stronger, whatever it was, “Violet! You’ve gotten so big! I remember you when you were just a little girl! Surely, you can’t believe him, after what he did to Lily and James!” He had creeped his way towards Violet, placed his hands on her face, but Violet had just stood there, frozen in whatever the feeling in her bones was. It felt icy and hot at the same time.

All she could see was the fate that Peter had brought to Lily and James and Sirius and Harry and Remus and herself. Twelve years of utter misery, because of _him._ All she could see were the dead faces of her sister and brother, Sirius locked up in Azkaban, Harry shunned in his cupboard, Remus spending every full moon alone, and her, wishing that she was dead, because she had nothing to keep her going.

Because of him.

Sirius roared, “DON’T. TOUCH. HER!”

He and Remus hauled Peter away from Violet and with the joint force sent him barrelling to the ground. Yet, Peter stood up again, and stumbled his way towards the three young teenagers, “Ron! I was such a good pet,” but Ron just coiled away, revolted. He turned to Hermione, who was equally revolted, “Clever girl! You cannot believe this madness, I would never have -,” He then stopped because Hermione had been pulled behind Harry, as he defended his best friend. And perhaps it was then that Peter made the biggest mistake of all.

He grabbed on to Harry, grasped him by the shoulders and whimpered, just loud enough for everyone to hear, “Harry, you look so much like James -,”

He didn’t even get a chance to finish what he wanted to plead, because something inside Violet had snapped. Like a switch. And she just forgot about everything else, all sense, all thought to do with the trial and her plans. Just pure, white-hot, searing anger.

She stalked over to him, and said so lowly it might have been missed, “Get off him.”

Peter let go and swivelled around to see Violet’s imposing figure, that easily towered over his own, bash into him. She pushed him forcefully, away from Harry and Hermione and into the wall behind them.

Her heart was beating erratically, her brain just seemed to have gone numb and she just, in that moment, felt nothing but the pure animalistic instinct to kill the man who had killed and torn apart her family.

Her forearm pressed with all her strength into his neck and Peter choked, his legs kicked out from under him, but Violet’s body was also pressing into his, which kept him from moving too much.

The room was silent, or maybe Violet just couldn’t hear them.

Her eyes darted across his face that was slowly turning redder and redder, his eyes were wide and panicky, and his hands grappled at Violet’s forearm, but it was futile, because Violet just pressed down harder.

Someone had called her name, but she ignored it.

“Tell me how it felt when you told Voldemort they were in Godric’s Hollow!” Violet hissed at him.

Someone called her name again, but she ignored it again.

“Tell me how it felt when you heard that they were dead, and it was because of you!” Her voice had risen in volume. His face was now a satisfying purple colour. There were scratches on her arm from where Peter had been trying to fight back, but Violet couldn’t feel a thing.

Someone was now pulling at her arm, but she ignored it.

“Tell me how you feel now, knowing that you sent your best friends, people that only ever loved you with all they had, straight to _fucking Hell!”_ She was shouting, and when she saw tears of desperation fall out of Peter’s eyes, she only got angrier, “TELL ME!”

She was then pulled away roughly by a pair of hands and sent straight into the arms of Sirius Black, who had wrapped his arms securely around her, as a comforter, or as a barrier, it was probably both. She struggled in his grip, which was surprisingly strong for someone who had spent twelve years in Azkaban.

“Sirius! Let – go!” When he did not let go, she struggled more, “LET – ME – FUCKING – GO!” she roared, but Sirius did not let go.

Sirius bent down slightly and murmured in her ear, “Witness for the defence only works if the witness is alive.”

“I – DON’T – CARE!” Violet thundered, “LILY TRUSTED HIM! JAMES TRUSTED HIM! YOU FUCKING TRUSTED HIM! LET – ME – GO!” Sirius did not let go, not as Violet kicked and shoved and did her damned best to get back to Peter.

“Violet,” a small voice sounded out across the Shack. It was Harry.

And then it stopped.

Everything and nothing, it all stopped. All at once.

All that could be heard was Peter choking and gasping for air on the floor.

With Sirius’ arms still wrapped around her abdomen, she turned to Harry, her kid. Suddenly, she felt empty inside, hollow with no ability to feel anything.

Harry was looking at her, not with fear, or pity, just sadness. His eyes were glistening, but no tears had fallen, “Don’t kill him, Violet, please, he’s not worth it.”

The both of them were remembering the conversation they had back in summer, it felt so long ago. Her chest was heaving, up and down, up and down, up and down. Her back was pressed against Sirius’ chest, so that she could feel his heartbeat, thudding, thudding and thudding. Her eyes flicked from Remus to Harry to Ron to Hermione, they were all looking at her with the same sadness, that ranged from pity to heartbreak.

She then slumped and fell to the floor in exhaustion, bringing Sirius down with her. Sirius knelt behind her, as she just sat there in numbness.

Sirius still hadn’t let go.

And Violet was thankful for it because his arms seemed to keep her anchored to Earth.

* * *

“How did you find us then?” asked Violet, as she walked with Remus and Ron between them, using the two adults as leverage for his leg. She had stupefied Peter three times, turned him back into a rat and then stuffed him into a conjured cage, on which she had placed every protective enchantment she could think of. She had then put the cage into her bag, with the undetectable extension charm.

“I knew Harry, Hermione and Ron would go out to see Hagrid before his Hippogriff was executed, so I was watching them from the steps of the castle, just to make sure they got back alright. Then, I saw Padfoot over there,” He nodded back to Sirius who was talking with Harry and Hermione, “barrelling towards them, so I followed, and then you charged straight passed me and I thought you were going to end up killing him, so I knew I had to be there to stop you. Obviously, I was wrong.” He added at the end drily.

Violet laughed a bit, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, about Peter and Sirius, I had a plan, but well that all went wrong, when Mr. Impulsive over there,” she also nodded back to Sirius, “decided to go full steam ahead, before I could do anything.”

“This plan? Witness for the defence?” queried Remus.

Violet said nothing, just winked and Remus laughed, but it was cut off as Ron’s foot bashed into the roots of the tree as they reached the entrance of the Whomping Willow, and he howled with pain. Crookshanks was sat on the knot and Remus and Violet lifted Ron as best as they could, so he could get out of the tree with as least pain as possible.

Once they were out, Sirius, Harry and Hermione soon followed, and Violet felt for a second that they had actually done it. They had the witness for the defence. She would be able to free Sirius. The truth had been revealed to the people that mattered.

But that was before they caught sight of the full moon.

Remus was an idiot.

“Get back to the Shack, Remus!” shouted Violet at the werewolf, who seemed to be frozen in shock at his own idiocy and in the start of the transformation.

Violet moved forward to try and push Remus back into the Whomping Willow, but she tripped over something slippery on the ground. Sirius took her idea on board and pushed him back in. Remus then seemed to come to his senses, as he started to sprint despite the pain of his oncoming transformation.

Getting back up, her hands felt around the ground for what made her trip. She picked up Harry’s Invisibility Cloak, a scream of pain came from the depths of the tree. Violet hurried up.

Sirius was guarding the hollow as Padfoot just in case Remus decided to come back out as Moony and as a sort of smell barrier, between the non-Animagi and Moony.

She moved towards Ron, Harry and Hermione, with the cloak in hand. She grabbed Harry’s wand out of his hands and at Ron and muttered, “You need to get back to the castle as quick as possible, _Mobilicorpus!”_ She shoved the wand back in Harry’s hand, “Ron will follow your wand. Put that over you,” she handed Hermione the Invisibility Cloak, “Take him to the Hospital Wing, and don’t come out and find us, we’ll be fine.”

Hermione looked distressed at the sight of Ron looking like a corpse and Harry didn’t seem to be fairing any better, but he hesitated when he looked at Padfoot, Violet repeated, “We’ll be fine. Go!”

Harry nodded and Hermione pulled on his sleeve, they flung the Cloak over the three of them and disappeared.

Violet rushed back to Sirius and tugged at his fur, “Sirius we need to go.” There were more and more screams now, but they sounded much further away, Remus had managed to get far enough, for them to be able to run.

Padfoot barked in agreement and they too ran back to the castle, but for an entirely different reason than Harry and Hermione. Once they got close enough to the Entrance Hall, Sirius would transform back and Violet would bind him, as if she had caught him.

The plan for a staged fight had fully flown out the window, because it was much too dark and no one would be there to watch, so there was no point. As she followed Padfoot’s lead, she could feel the bag that had Wormtail’s cage inside, and a small bit of hope blossomed inside her.

Maybe they had done it.

She just had a trial to win now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Seven days before the trial.**

“The jury gets announced later today,” said Violet as she walked into Sirius’ detainment cell, with a pair of plain, but clean robes, some underwear, a pair of scissors, a stack of parchment and her bag holding Peter and some other things stuffed in her boot.

His cell was in area just below the Department of Mysteries and was currently the only one in use. The cells were only used for criminals that were awaiting sentencing; it was where Sirius should have been nearly thirteen years ago now.

The cell was small, with white walls. It was minimal, with a bed, a table, a toilet, and a sink. It wasn’t great, but it was better than Azkaban. There was a selection of Hit Wizards standing outside at all times of the day and a series of heavy protective enchantments placed over it.

And there were no Dementors, which made all the difference in the world.

“Who’s in charge of the jury?” asked Sirius, watching Violet from the bed.

The jury was made up of twelve members of the Winzengamot that had been voted in by their fellow members. The twelve people with the most votes were allowed in.

“Amelia Bones, which is a relief, she’ll be running the trial. Fudge will be just observing as a member of the Winzengamot, to save face and all,” she added once she saw Sirius’ confused face as to why it wasn’t the Minister.

Violet put her stuff on the table and jumped up to sit on it. She would have conjured a chair, but one of the enchantments on the room meant no magic could be used. Sirius sat up to face Violet directly, “Eddie’s sister? That’s alright then. What’s all this?” he nodded to her pile.

She pointed to the stack of parchment, “Stuff we both need to sign, you can read it through in a minute,” She pointed to the robes, “For you to wear, so you don’t look a mess at the trial,” She pointed to the scissors, “and they’re for me to cut your hair. It’s not much, but it’s all they’re allowing you.”

“Nah, it’s alright, it’s only for a week anyway,” responded Sirius, but Violet could tell that was bullshit. He had only been here for just over 12 hours and for 9 of them he had been asleep, and he was already restless.

Violet reached into her boot and pulled out the bag, with the undetectable extension charm. She reached into it and pulled out a copy of this morning’s Daily Prophet, on which read EVANS: A HERO ONCE MORE, she thought it was ridiculous. Underneath that read TRIAL OF THE CENTURY: BLACK, GUILTY OR NOT? And it contained everything about Sirius the Prophet could get their hands on.

She chucked it to him, “We’re famous.”

He caught it and scanned the front cover, “ _You’re_ famous, I’m infamous.”

Violet just shrugged, “You won’t be though.” When Sirius said nothing, Violet carried on, “Everyone’s gone sort of mad. This is the most exciting thing that’s happened since the end of the war. Half the people think you should be given the Dementor’s Kiss, once you’re proven guilty that is, and the other half want you to be innocent just for the fuck of it.”

Sirius huffed a laugh at her words, “What are the official charges then?”

Violet got down of the table and carried the papers to sit next to Sirius on the bed, “The murder of Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles, escaping prison, but you’ll likely not face any charges for that, once it’s proved that you weren’t meant to be there in the first place and then, evading recapture for eleven months, but that’ll be dropped too. And unofficially? Being Secret Keeper for Lily and James.”

“Unofficially?” questioned Sirius as he stared at the parchment that listed his charges.

“It’s technically not a crime by law, so you won’t be charged for it, but the prosecution will likely bring it up at the very beginning of the trial to try and swing the jury. Also, the story was leaked to the public a few months ago, by some journalist called Goldberg, he’s a proper arse. It has little validity though because people are already questioning it, with me being your rep.”

“And you know how to work a trial, do you?” It wasn’t meant maliciously, just with curiosity, so Violet wasn’t offended.

“I’ve seen it being done, I’ve prosecuted a couple times and I got Harry’s custody through a legal battle, although that wasn’t a trial, but I’ve never done anything to this extent,” explained Violet, it would be hard for it to go wrong, what with them having a presumed dead man as a witness. The only problem was that it would likely take ages.

Sirius was nodding, as he flicked through the other official signings to do with the trial. Stuff about agreeing for an open trial, acknowledging that the Council make the final verdict, it was all useless really. He asked, “Have you requested Veritaserum?”

Violet hummed, “Yeah, just before I came here, actually, they said they would deliberate it and have a decision within the next couple days.”

“They’ll say no, at least until you’ve given solid proof that I could be innocent. They’ll want to dramatize it, because, you know,” he picked up the Prophet and waved it a little, “trial of the century.”

Violet hummed again, she already knew this, but didn’t say make anything of it, “Your arraignment is tomorrow, do us both a favour and don’t plead guilty.” When Sirius said nothing again, Violet presumed he already knew, so she stood up and picked up the scissors off the desk, she turned around to see Sirius watching her, “Come on then,” and she opened and closed the scissors in a snipping motion.

He stared at the scissors and then at Violet as he stood up and walked over to her, “You ever cut hair before?”

“Tried cutting Harry’s once, a couple weeks after he moved in with me, but he has James’ hair so it didn’t make much of a difference,” she led him over to the toilet, where she closed the lid and gestured for him to sit down.

Sirius sat down on the toilet, facing the other direction, so Violet could stand behind him, “Just chop it all off, I’ve had enough of it hanging about.”

Violet pulled one of the two bobbles on her wrist and wrapped it around Sirius’ knotted hair, just above his neck, “I don’t think I’ll be able to get it how you used to have it.” Sirius used to have his hair short, with it a bit longer on top. Violet was not a hairdresser.

She had begun plaiting his hair down his back, in a way that she had once seen an actual hairdresser do, when she had been getting her own hair cut as a child. Although, given the huge collections of knots that had amassed in his hair, it was harder than Violet had thought it would be. Sirius responded, “Don’t care, just want it off.”

Violet wrapped the second bobble over the end of the tight braid. All that could be heard for a few minutes was Violet snipping at the top of the braid, she had no idea if this were what she was supposed to do. It would probably end up wonky.

When she had finished, she had a huge braid of long black hair in her hands and when Sirius turned around, she noted that his hair now fell to about chin length. She looked at him amusedly, “You can keep it if you want,” she wriggled the braid in her hand. It was quite strange actually; Violet had never seen anything quite like it.

“Yeah, alright then, I’ll frame it,” replied Sirius sarcastically. Violet tried to suppress a grin; now that was Sirius Black’s biting humour.

She then caught sight of his ridiculously long beard; she had never cut a beard before. Her knowledge on beards wasn’t all to great, believe it or not. She decided to ask the owner of said beard, “How do you want me to do your beard?”

“No idea, it’s never gotten this long before; try and get as much off as you can,” said Sirius, who had been feeling the back of his head at the new light sensation. His hair still needed washing and brushing, but it was a huge improvement. He would have to wait another week for that.

Violet went and placed the massive braid on to the table and speculated what to do with his beard. It seemed weird to be spending this much time over hair and beards, but she supposed she was just happy to be in his company; the case and her envisioned plan for the trial had been formulated months ago. She could memorise it by heart, so this week was a bit of a waste really, for both her and Sirius.

All Violet had to do was gather a few people and a couple of bits and bobs, to cross-examine the witnesses and evidence that she knew the prosecution would bring up.

She reckoned it was more for the rest of the world, to catch up with the events. And as Sirius said, they wanted it to be dramatized. It was just a shame for them that Violet was even more dramatic than they could even begin to fathom.

Going back to Sirius with one bobble in hand, she muttered, “Alright, but it’s your loss.”

* * *

**Six days before the trial.**

Sirius had pleaded not guilty at his arraignment. Thankfully.

It was quite the spectacle if you asked Violet, although it had been expected, not many people plead guilty at the first hurdle.

However, it had opened the discussion that if Sirius were truly Voldemort’s right-hand man, surely, he would have honoured his deceased Dark Lord and waffled on about some shite to do with vengeance and whatnot.

But he hadn’t, so clearly all was not what it seemed.

The public had eaten it up like seagulls, Violet thought it was all bullshit.

* * *

**Five days before the trial.**

As she stood outside Dumbledore’s office, she questioned what she was about to say. She hadn’t spoke to Dumbledore much this year and it had just been announced the day before that he would be one of twelve on the jury.

That meant she couldn’t talk to him about the trial, or Sirius, or anything to do with it. What a pain in the arse, because how was she supposed to get him to give her the Pensieve without talking about the _bloody trial_?

Gathering her wits, she promptly decided on winging it and knocked on the door thrice.

She then proceeded to open the door, after hearing a faint, “Come in,” and entered to face two people, who looked to have been talking about something passionately before she came in. Or, rather, one person looked to have been talking passionately, while the other patiently listened to his complaints.

It was Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore.

And she had the feeling that they had been talking about her and the trial. What a pleasant surprise.

“Ah! Violet, to what do I owe the pleasure?” asked Dumbledore genially.

Eyeing Snape from the corner of her eye, she smiled at Dumbledore, “Sirius Black.” And there, Violet had just set the cheery tone for the conversation.

She turned to Snape who was looking at her. Dumbledore nodded to Snape, “Severus and I have just finished up our little discussion. You wouldn’t mind, would you, Severus?”

“Not at all, Headmaster,” said Snape silkily.

He then started to walk away, but before he could leave, Violet called out, “Will you be at the trial?”

Snape turned back around to look at Violet, who was looking plainly back at him. All three participants in the room were all thinking the same thing, Lily Evans. Snape believed it to have been Sirius who betrayed the Potters, and so believes Sirius is indirectly responsible for Lily’s murder.

Violet wanted him to be there, so he knew first-hand where to place the blame.

It was an open trial, which meant that whoever wanted to be there and whoever got there first was allowed to watch, like it was some spectacle at a zoo. Trial of the century, and all that. It would be pointless to try and request a closed one, and besides, Violet’s plan only had the proper effect if there were people there to watch.

Snape stared at her for a moment before he jerked his head forward and then he left.

Violet turned back to Dumbledore who was observing her over his glasses, he spoke, “You are aware, of course, that I cannot discuss the trial with you.”

Violet nodded her head, she wasn’t stupid, “I wasn’t going to, I just need to borrow an item off of you, for the purpose of giving evidence.”

She had to refrain from laughing at herself: that was probably one of the sneakiest things she had ever said to Dumbledore. She had just outright told Dumbledore that there was evidence to suggest Sirius was innocent, without discussing the trial whatsoever.

Dumbledore sat back in his chair and placed his hands together as though in prayer. He regarded Violet cautiously, careful not to breach the contracts of the Council, “Which item is it that you need?”

Her eyes flickered across Dumbledore’s face, “The Pensieve, but if you’ll let me, I can just collect it on Friday and have it back to you by Sunday.”

Violet was rather impressed with herself: the trial was on Saturday.

Dumbledore bowed his head forward slightly, “Then I can see no harm in doing so.”

Violet nearly breathed a sigh of relief.

Once she left Dumbledore’s office, she made a second pitstop to a certain werewolf. She knocked on the door that was already open, to announce her presence, “Hello Remus.”

It was a few days after the chaotic events that occurred on the Friday just before; a few days after Remus had turned into a werewolf, quite dramatically after he forgot about the full moon. According to Violet’s watch, the time was just after five.

Remus turned around from where he had been packing something away, Violet presumed from the lessons he had been teaching that day, “Hello Violet,” he looked tired and ill, but not all too bad for a werewolf.

“How are you?” asked Violet awkwardly as she made her way into his office and perched herself on the desk to face him.

He looked at Violet to suggest she had asked a stupid question, maybe she had, “As well as can be.”

“Right, I’m – er – not really supposed to talk to you about Sirius, confidentiality stuff, but he told me to tell you that he thinks you’re an idiot and he hopes to see you at his trial,” said Violet. Remus laughed slightly and Violet spoke again, “You will be there, won’t you?”

“If you want me there,” said Remus and Violet had to refrain from shouting incredulously; _if you want me there, honestly, what rubbish._

“Of course, I bloody want you there,” Remus just smiled sadly at her and Violet’s face contorted into confusion, “Why are you being like that? All depressive? What’s wrong?”

At first Violet thought it had to do with her, when she had her episode of madness in the Shrieking Shack; Violet had decided that she wasn’t going to speak or even think about it. Then, Violet caught sight of a packed suitcase and it hit Violet like a bus, “You’re resigning, aren’t you? Because of what happened on Friday.”

Quite ironically, Remus looked resigned as he said, “Yes and no, I was careless that day, I forgot about the full moon.” Violet couldn’t deny his carelessness, but she figured that it was only him that thought it was the world’s worst crime. He carried on, “When you reveal Wormtail at the trial, Dumbledore is going to know that I broke his trust, that I lied about so much, I can’t stay here with the knowledge that I did that.”

The honourable idiot.

Violet watched Remus carefully, “And? Why else? There’s another reason, isn’t there?”

Remus tipped his head forward and laughed a little at Violet’s pragmatism, “Severus thought it would be a good idea to let slip of my condition today at breakfast, owls will start flooding in tomorrow and I’ll forced to resign anyway.”

“That bastard -,” Violet stood up straight to do what, she wasn’t entirely sure; give Snape a piece of her mind, maybe smash his face in.

But Remus placed a gentle hand on her arm, “It’s alright, Violet.” He sounded amused.

“No, it’s not alright, he can’t just _do that_ , this was probably the only good job you’ve ever had, you’ll never get one again, because of that _stupid cow_ and her _stupid laws_. He can’t just _take that away from you -,”_

Violet was cut off by a knock on the door and the both of them swivelled around to come face to face with Harry Potter, who looked like he had just received the news of Remus’ resignation himself.

She had said her piece, so she decided to leave Remus and Harry to it. As she left the room with a small touch to Remus’ hand, she placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder and said quietly, “I’ll speak to you in a bit, yeah?” She had a couple things to ask him.

Harry looked at her and nodded, before heading into Remus’ office.

* * *

“How’s Sirius?” Harry asked Violet. The two of them were sat outside on the Hogwarts grounds absorbing the summer evening.

“He’s,” Violet paused, unsure of what to say, then settled on, “bored.”

“You look tired,” stated Harry bluntly, when he noticed Violet’s rather rugged appearance.

Violet ignored him, “How’re Ron and Hermione?” She was tired, but that was unimportant, she could rest properly after the trial.

“Ron’s alright, Madam Pomfrey fixed his leg. Hermione’s fine too,” answered Harry, he dropped his questioning for Violet’s health, but that didn’t mean he would forget about it.

“And, how are you?” said Violet as she turned to look at him properly.

Harry, like Violet, evaded the question, which gave the most straightforward answer, which was not good, but not bad. “Professor Lupin – Remus – told me his story about how he was bitten and how they all became Animagi for him and how my dad saved Snape after what Sirius did,” said Harry as he picked the grass around him.

He wasn’t too sure what to make of it all really, he suddenly had two more people in his very small life that he didn’t know how to behave with; it had been hard enough with Violet. He had spent so long thinking he only had the Dursley’s. Harry finished with, “Snape is such an arse.”

Violet exhaled a breath of amusement; indeed, he was. “He and your mum used to be friends, as you know, seems like it was centuries ago. Your mum used to hate your dad and Sirius because they would fight with Snape, so by default Lily thought they were scum of the Earth, but more so because they represented everything your mum disliked.”

Harry blinked with the new information, he knew Snape and his mum had been friends, and he knew his dad and Snape had fought a lot, but he never knew his mum had hated his dad, “Which was what?” He was really interested to know.

“Bullying and rule-breaking, except it wasn’t, well, no, it was rule-breaking, and that’s only based of what I saw, but it wasn’t bullying. It was boyish, teenage rivalry. You’ll have seen it here, with other students, groups of friends vs other groups of friends, like territory wars. Lily just saw it as bullying. I also have a theory that she was slightly jealous of them,” explained Violet. Her assessment was just based off of what she had heard and what she could piece together with guesswork. She knew it was accurate though. It had been like that with her Hogwarts generation, even after the war.

“Jealous of them?” said Harry surprised.

“Maybe jealous is the wrong word, I think she used to think that they didn’t deserve to be talented, because they didn’t work hard enough. James and Sirius were the best of the best, effortlessly good at everything; between the both of them they actually taught me most of what I know and that was just from watching them.” The amount of jinxes and hexes she now had up her sleeve thanks to them was uncountable.

“So, what happened then? How did they get together in the end?” questioned Harry, he couldn’t imagine a relationship working if one of them hated the other.

“Well, James saw that there was more to the world than pride and Lily saw that there was more to James than she had wanted to see, besides James and Sirius found me in First Year, hiding from Filch I think because I’d gone exploring, and took me on as a sort of apprentice, as they called it. Lily saw how they were with me and how it presented them in a different light. And they were Head Boy and Girl, so they were spending much more time with each other,” finished Violet.

Neither of them said anything as the evening breeze brushed past them, until Harry took the words right out of Violet’s mouth, “Can I come to the trial?”

Violet scoffed a laugh, “I was just about to ask you if you wanted to go.”

“So, you’ll let me go?” asked Harry again, eagerly.

“I was wondering if you’d do more than just go,” said Violet.

* * *

**Three days before the trial.**

Violet was bored. Not as bored as she knew Sirius was, but she was quite simply bored.

She was at home trying to read over her opening speech for the trial; prosecution always went first, defence went second. It would hopefully work in her favour because she knew what the prosecution would try to do and with her being second, she could fully dismantle their entire speech with her own.

The prosecution was made up of the Ministry, practically the entire D.M.L.E. except her. Obviously, as Peter Pettigrew and the twelve Muggles weren’t ‘there’ to prosecute, the Auror office had taken over, with Scrimgeour at its head. That meant it would be a battle between her and Scrimgeour because Fudge would just speak up when he thought was necessary to try and sway the jury and not tarnish his reputation too much.

Scrimgeour had turned into a bit of a scapegoat. Violet thought Fudge was an idiot, Scrimgeour couldn’t lose his reputation, he was one of the strongest Aurors they had. Fudge should have used someone else.

As Sirius had predicted, they had denied the request for Veritaserum until Violet had sufficient evidence to suggest that they needed it, which she had in abundance.

Violet put the speech down, she knew it by heart.

Her eyes drifted to Wormtail’s cage, where he had given up on trying to escape and so had now just sat there either asleep or plotting her murder, Violet didn’t care. She stood up to get more food and water for him.

He deserved to be dead, but Sirius deserved to be free more, and so, for Sirius, Violet would keep him alive.

Despite telling herself that she wasn’t even going to think about what had happened to her in the Shrieking Shack, she couldn’t help but let her thoughts drift back. She would have killed him, she would do it again in a heartbeat, and it didn’t scare Violet as much as it should.

In that moment, she had just wanted him dead. Gone. That feeling was one she had never had before; she had never wanted someone more dead than in those very seconds – Violet stopped thinking. There were more important things to be worried about.

Term had ended yesterday, and Harry had gone to stay with the Weasley’s for a couple days before Remus would pick him up at eight on Saturday and bring them both to the trial, for a nine O’clock start.

She cut the bread and cheese into small pieces and filled a small bowl of water.

Harry had agreed to speak at the trial in Sirius’ defence, which would be the final nail on the head for Sirius’ innocence. Violet hadn’t told Harry what he should say, she had only told him it needed to be heartfelt, it needed to show that Sirius was innocent. Harry held a lot of power, more than he realised and more than he wanted, but that didn’t take away the fact that he had it.

She picked up the food and walked back over to Wormtail’s cage.

_Stupefy_

Violet had pointed her wand through the cage holes and stunned him. He slumped a little further than he had been before. She undid the enchantments that prevented the cage from being opened, slipped in the food and water, then shut the latch and redid the enchantments.

_Rennervate_

Wormtail woke up and that was that.

* * *

**One day before the trial.**

_Tick, tick, tick._

That was the sound that had been floating through Violet’s mind for the past week. The ticking of a clock, a countdown till Saturday at nine O’clock in the Winzengamot court room.

One day to go. They were so, so close.

_Tick, tick, tick._

She was stood in one of the lifts, waiting to go down to Sirius’ cell, just to see how he was fairing; she had been there every day, today was no different. It was just her in the lift, she was about half an hour earlier than the typical rush hour of Ministry workers trying to get to their respective floors.

Until it wasn’t just her in the lift, the doors slid open and there stood Rufus Scrimgeour.

And then Rufus Scrimgeour got into the lift and stood next to her.

Head and Deputy.

They were fighting again, though this was the only time it wasn’t their choice. A law battle, evidence, prosecution, defence, witnesses, this was neither of their specialities, and Scrimgeour’s reluctance was clear. Violet had it easy, Scrimgeour not so much, even if it seemed like the reversal.

_Tick, tick, tick._

The lift started moving at its ridiculous pace and the two Aurors stood there with an inextricable awkward silence between them. The fact that Violet felt bad for Scrimgeour didn’t dilute the fact that she was going to rip him to shreds tomorrow.

She was going to rip the D.M.L.E. and its pathetic prosecution to bits. She was going to win, for Sirius, for her, for Harry, for Remus, for James and for Lily. She would win if it were the last thing she ever did.

When the woman’s voice sounded out from through the walls of the lift, “ _Level Nine, The Department of Mysteries,”_ and the lift came to a halt, Violet hesitated before she got out.

She turned to Scrimgeour and held out her hand, “All the best for tomorrow.”

He stared at her hand, and it briefly crossed Violet’s mind that it would be terribly embarrassing if he ignored her, then he shook it firmly and said, “All the best, Evans.”

They had known each other for ten years; from the moment he had interviewed her and accepted her into the training course, to now as they stood as equals fighting on either side of the trial of the century; she had worked under him for four and then worked with him for three. The both of them were good, really bloody good Aurors and despite their differences they weren’t actually all that dissimilar.

When she let go and stepped out of the lift, Violet couldn’t help the small, crooked smile that came across her face; there were worse people in the world than Rufus Scrimgeour.

_Tick, tick, tick._

* * *

Violet had done a horrific job on Sirius’ beard; it was a good job she wasn’t a man, that’s for certain.

_Violet had plaited Sirius beard and was now snipping along the shape of his jaw, in a triangular shape. Finally, when the knotted and braided beard was in her hand and off Sirius’ face, Violet just sort of stared at the disaster she had created._

_And then she burst of laughing, because it was awful, well and truly awful._

_Sirius was just looking at her as she cackled uncontrollably, kneeling on the floor with his braided beard in her hands. There were crinkles around her eyes and her mouth was broad with a smile and Sirius had a feeling those laughs of hers didn’t happen all too often anymore._

_Violet caught sight of Sirius’ gaze on her and she tried to stop herself from laughing, but then she saw Sirius’ disaster of a beard and started laughing all over again, “You look -,” she could hardly get her words out for laughs, “you look like a -,” she started laughing again, “like a – a bearded dragon.”_

_It took Violet a while to stop laughing, but Sirius didn’t mind._

She had sort of amended it, by trimming it down all over, so it was all the same length. It was neat enough she supposed, and he did look like he had spent significantly less time in Azkaban.

Someone else could do it properly when Sirius was free.

“Are you nervous?” asked Sirius as he nodded to her shaking foot, it was a habit she had never been able to drop, shaking her leg or her foot when she couldn’t think straight.

“Absolutely terrified,” admitted Violet, “you?”

“Absolutely terrified,” echoed Sirius admittedly.

Violet laugh a little, “It’ll be fine, there’s not much that could go wrong, unless you start shouting or I butcher it up.”

There was a small smile on Sirius’ face, “I promise not to shout if you promise not to butcher it up.”

“Swear on my life,” Violet held up her pinky and wriggled it in a joking manner, she felt the nerves in her stomach again and then dropped her hand and said resolutely, “We’ll be fine.”

* * *

**The trial.**

Violet was nervous, really fucking nervous. Her leg was bouncing up and down from her place in her stand. Sirius, who was looking much better than Violet felt (she had no idea how he was doing it) was directly in the middle of the courtroom, there were no chains around his hands, not after Violet had thrown a barmy at Bones when she saw it had been requested by the prosecution.

If Sirius were in chains, it would strip them of credit before Violet even started speaking and if Violet were going to win, she would need all the credit she could take.

Her eyes scanned the crowd. Directly opposite her was Scrimgeour, in the prosecution stand, his eyes were head down on, what Violet presumed to be his opening statement. He looked pale. Violet’s eyes moved to Bones, Fudge, Umbridge, who Violet had been told was scribing, and some other people that Violet recognised as a part of the physical law division of the D.M.L.E.

They didn’t seem to be doing anything worth noting.

Her eyes flicked to behind the largest stand, where Bones was sat, to the twelve seats of the jury. It wasn’t the best they could have hoped for, but it certainly wasn’t the worst.

It was them she had to convince. Violet had ranked them on how easy it would be for her to convince them. Everything would be fine. Dumbledore was on the jury, he would easily lead the verdict, all she had to do was convince him, which, as Violet had already noted, would be easy.

Everything would be fine

No matter how many times she said it she still had an unbearable feeling of sickness in the pit of her stomach.

Her eyes then moved to the crowd, a mix of journalists, Skeeter was there of course, as well as Goldberg, trial obsessionists, she saw Snape brooding at the back of the crowd, family of the jury, members of the Ministry who had a day off and were just morbidly curious, the members of the Winzengamot, family of the victim(s), in this case it was just Wormtail’s mother. Violet had to refrain from grimacing, that poor woman was in for a nasty shock, and finally, family of the defendant, Remus, Harry and Hermione, who had asked Violet if she could come too, just to see what a Magical trial looked like. Violet couldn’t really say no, now could she?

Ron had wanted to go too, but Molly and Arthur both thought Sirius was guilty as guilty, so they had no reason to let their son go.

She caught Remus’ eye, he smiled warmly at her, but when Violet tried to smile back, she knew it looked much more like a grimace.

Her hair was pulled back from her face neatly, her robes were clean and pressed, she had minimal makeup on, not that she had more than the minimum on, and her face was masked with confidence. She looked the part at least. She looked like she knew what she was doing.

It was just a bit of a shame she felt like shit.

Madam Bones called the courtroom to silence. Scrimgeour stood up and made his way to the central floor, where Sirius was sat looking remarkably mild, without a hint of expression on his face, as he watched Scrimgeour take his place a few feet in front of him.

Violet sucked in a breath and leaned slightly forward.

_Come on then, let’s have at it._

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the court and the jury; this is a case of undeniable and ruthless murder. You are here because on November 1st 1981, that man,” here he pointed to Sirius, “Sirius Black, massacred an entire Muggle street, killing not only twelve Muggles, but a brave, brave Wizard, who had spent his Hogwarts days as one of Black’s best friends.”

Scrimgeour was speaking to both the court and the jury, his arms were open and gesticulative, his face was expressive, and he had clearly done his research. He was good. Violet hoped she was better.

“It is the burden of the prosecution to prove to beyond a reasonable doubt that Sirius Black is guilty of multiple murders in the first degree, but we are confident that the weight of the evidence we intend to present to you during the course of this trial will clearly establish the defendant’s guilt.”

“The massacre happened on November 1, 1981, at approximately 3:30 p.m. It was a clear and bright day.”

Sirius’ face hadn’t changed. Violet struggled to read what he was thinking.

“It happened in an alley way off the centre of Northcote Road, Battersea. For those of you who do not know, it is one of the busiest high streets in London, with many Muggles commuting about their business and enjoyment from day to day, November 1st, 1981 was no different. The alley way in which it happened, was between a two shops, both for the purpose of selling clothing and one of them, more specifically, for the purpose of selling children’s clothing.”

The audience tittered and murmured. Bones called silence.

“What, then, happened on Northcote Road around 3:30 during the afternoon of November 1st? The evidence we will bring to you during this trial will show the following:”

“The day previous to this, you will all know it well, was October 31st, the day that You-Know-Who murdered the Potter family and was vanquished by the young Harry Potter,” Harry suddenly felt very self-conscious, “The Potters had gone into hiding not only a week before, with the Fidelius Charm placed around their house. For those of you that are not aware of the purpose of the Fidelius Charm, or how it works, let me tell you.”

Violet had expected this, but that didn’t mean she had hoped it would have been forgotten.

“The Fidelius Charm is a spell that can be placed over any building, it is, in short, a protective enchantment. It allows that house and all that’s in it to be concealed from all knowledge and sight. It cannot be located until disclosed by the Secret Keeper. This means that in order for You-Know-Who to have found the Potters, the Secret Keeper would have had to disclose the location to You-Know-Who willingly.” Here he took a dramatic pause, “This man, Sirius Black, was the Potters’ Secret Keeper.”

Tittering and murmuring. Sirius’ face was stoic. Bones called silence.

“As I have previously mentioned, Black and Pettigrew were best friends at school, let me tell you who the both of them were also best friends with,” another dramatic pause, “James Potter. So now, let me bring you to the events of November 1st. Pettigrew, understandably heartbroken by the news of the Potters’ deaths, tried to find Black, to see if it really were true, that he had set up his best friend and his wife and son for tragedy.”

“When Pettigrew did find Black on Northcote Road, I’m sure you can imagine the rest, but let me tell you anyway. Black being the superior Wizard, managed to corner Pettigrew. Pettigrew was terrified, but he did not stand down, he confronted Black with the knowledge that he would die, he stood up to Black even in the face of death. He cried out, “Lily and James, how could you?” but before he could say anymore, Black cursed him with the blasting curse, a very powerful one, you’ll all be aware of the effects _confringo_ can have, and all that was left of Pettigrew was a finger.”

“The Aurors and Hit Wizards were too late, unfortunately, but they were there to see one thing. They were there to see Sirius Black laughing, laughing at the fate he had just created for two of his best friends.”

The audience were on the edge of their seats, the idiots.

“And that, that ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is what we expect the evidence to show. That the man sat there,” he gestured to Sirius again, “is a cold, ruthless traitor. Thank you.”

Violet stood up with a confident, but small smile on her face, just to show that she had something. People were watching her curiously. Good. She had a man to free.

_My turn._

She made her way to stand in front of Sirius, just as Scrimgeour had done. The nerves had been replaced by adrenaline. Her hands were sweaty, but they weren’t shaking. She turned to face Bones and the jury, then she turned to face the court, all eyes were on her.

So, she began.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the court and the jury; this is a case of undeniable and ruthless murder. You are here because on November 1st 1981, that man,” here she pointed to Sirius, “Sirius Black, massacred an entire Muggle street, killing not only twelve Muggles, but a brave, brave Wizard, who had spent his Hogwarts days as one of Black’s best friends etc, etc.”

She had mimicked Scrimgeour of his every move, his every word. She was mocking him, and it was working. His speech had just lost credibility. The court were watching her fascinatedly.

Violet smiled slightly again, before she spun around from where she had been speaking to the council and grinned lazily at the room. Her arms from where they had been up and open fell to her sides and she relaxed her posture slightly to lean on Sirius’ chair.

“That was the prosecution’s story, you’ll be familiar, of course, it was only told a moment ago. My sister was Lily Evans and my brother-by-law was James Potter, Harry Potter is my nephew, with whom I have been living with for three years now. I’m sure many of you are wondering, why then, if the prosecution’s story is correct, am I defending the man who murdered and tore apart my family? Well, quite simply, it’s because the prosecution’s story is not correct.”

The audience was hooked, Violet smirked slightly. She caught Remus’ eyes, he was impressed, she could tell. She looked down to Sirius sat on the chair, he was also impressed. Violet hadn’t told Sirius anything to do with her opening statement, all she had said was that she had a plan.

“Now, I’m sure most of you have realised, that November 1st, 1981 was a long time ago, twelve years and eight months ago, if you want to be precise. This trial was supposed to have happened twelve years and eight months ago, but it didn’t. Breaches were made in the law to accommodate the war, men, such as the one in this chair, were sent to Azkaban without a trial, without a chance to justify, without a chance to explain that perhaps they had not become a Death Eater out of free will. Assumptions were made and fates were sealed.”

“All I am asking of you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is that you keep an open mind. That you keep your mind open to the fact that the war was a terrible time for all. Families were murdered, slaughtered and butchered daily, many of you will have lost friends and family to the war, just as I did. I lost my parents, my sister and my brother all to Lord Voldemort,” there were collective gasps and flinches. Bones called for silence, “Although, I suppose it was to be expected, I am a Muggle-born after all.” She made eye contact with Malfoy behind Bones. He looked to be repressing a sneer.

She was still at ease and relaxed on the chair as she carried on, “Men and women alike were terrified for years, many joined Voldemort,” Violet ignored the gasps and carried on, “out of fear, many joined Voldemort,” she ignored it again, “out of their own free will, and many out of both, others, though a rather select few, joined not from their own free will, but of the will of Voldemort and his Imperius Curse.” She could feel Malfoy’s burning gaze on the back of her head.

“There were insiders everywhere, spies, messengers, they were people you thought you could trust with your life, they were people who you thought you knew, they were people who you loved. Everywhere. And with spies, came plans for foolery, to try and oust them, trick them, defeat them. Some of them worked and some of them did not. All I am asking of you, is that you remember how hard it was to tell true from false, fiction from non-fiction, Death Eater from civilian.” She gave a dramatic pause, “I ask this because, I, representative of the defendant, swear to show you what happens when justice is not instated where justice is a requisition. I swear to show you what happens when evidence is ignored and finally, I swear to show you what happens when love is overlooked. Thank you.”

One member of the audience actually started clapping, before they were shushed quite viciously. Violet hid a laugh.

She turned to Scrimgeour, who was staring at her with an unreadable expression. The only thing that Violet could read was the message from his eyes, it was loud and clear:

_Game on._

“The prosecution calls Arnold Greene, Head Hit Wizard,” sounded Scrimgeour. Arnold Greene was a man that Violet knew well enough, he had just spent the last eleven months under her command.

No hard feelings.

Greene swore in his oaths, to be truthful etc. Violet could work on Greene, he was a good Hit Wizard, talented, ruthless, it was why he was Head. Nevertheless, he didn’t have an incentive. Violet did, she had a huge incentive, of guilt and love. She liked Greene, but she was going to tear him down.

Greene blazed through his twenty years of experience as a Hit Wizard, ten of which he was appointed Head and cut to the chase.

“You see a lot in this job. After seeing so much of the same, you can read the murder from the crime scene. My experience tells me that this was personal,” Violet thought he was full of a shit.

Scrimgeour questioned, “Mr Greene, how do you know Black was targeting Pettigrew?”

“Objection!” Violet had never stood up so fast in her life, “A witness can only present facts that they personally observed, Greene neither watched the friendship between my client and Pettigrew, nor did he watch the interaction before the curse was fired.”

“Sustained,” nodded Bones and Scrimgeour narrowed his eyes. It had been a blunder on Scrimgeour’s part, as Violet said, this was neither of their specialities.

Violet sat down, Scrimgeour just rephrased the question, “Mr Greene, in what way can you tell that this was personal?”

“I was first on the scene, after the report had come in. It was former Auror Alastor Moody and I who apprehended Black moments after we got there. Moody took Black away and left me to investigate the scene.”

Violet nearly snarled, _clearly didn’t investigate very well, did you?_ It was why Aurors investigated scenes of the Dark Arts, so other people wouldn’t do a half-arsed job and condemn innocent people to Azkaban.

Sirius looked to be thinking along the same lines as her.

“It was an alley way, it was small, but there was a huge gaping hole carved out of the ground, the two shops either side of the alley were crumbling. There were Muggles everywhere looking around to see what had happened. The Muggle police and amblia – ambulances were there, it was pandemonium. I spoke first-hand to a Muggle who had watched the whole thing. She was terrified and shaking and she described the events to me. The contents of the conversation were what solidified my belief that Sirius Black intentionally cursed Pettigrew, with the intent of killing him,” finished Greene.

His muck up with the word ambulances, only told Violet that this had been rehearsed and attempted to be perfected. Shame for them that Violet was a Muggle-born.

Scrimgeour took over, “Madam Bones and the jury, I should like to present to you an exhibit of the conversation between Mr Greene and the Muggle lady, in the form of a memory, shown through a Pensieve.”

Violet had thought she was being original when she had asked Dumbledore for the Pensieve, alas not. It didn’t matter all too much though, she had stuff up her sleeve for this argument.

Some trial clerk went and got the Pensieve from outside the courtroom. It had been checked over for curses, tampering and anything of the like that would suggest forgery. The same had been done with the memories and the other objects of evidence. It had been checked over by Violet, Scrimgeour, Bones and a fourth other impartial member, a Curse Breaker, of the name Jerimiah Smith.

Nothing had been tampered with. All was good to go.

It was only Smith who had actually looked at the memories, so neither party knew what was coming from the other. Violet was pleased enough with that; Smith knew nothing that would deter her from her plan.

The memory was poured into the basin and Scrimgeour tapped his wand on the side, so that the memory projected itself onto the space between Sirius and Bones.

_“It… It all happened so fast, my God,” the woman rambled. She looked to be shaking quite vigorously. Greene was standing there with curious eyes._

Violet looked at ‘memory’ Greene and scorned, he should have been comforting the woman. Did he not know the effects shock could have on someone? Inconsiderate bastard.

_“I just need a quick rundown of what you saw and heard. I know this might have come as a bit of a shock, but we need to know what happened here,” said Greene, rather ostentatiously._

_“I – okay – right…erm… there were two men, in that alley, I saw one follow the other in. I think the first one had blonde hair and was a bit on the fat side and the other one was – er – considerably slimmer and had black hair? I think, I can’t be sure,” said the woman uncertainly._

Some of the audience had sniggered at her analysis.

_“That’s alright, can you tell me anything else?” asked Greene._

_“I – yes – I think so, they were angry, or they were fighting, I’m not quite sure. But the blonde one was scared; I know that for certain. The both of them were holding weapons, they looked a bit like sticks, but they were probably just thin knives and I just didn’t see properly. And I didn’t hear anything for a while, I was queueing for the fish shop, until one of them cried something like, ‘Lily and James, how could you?’ and then the explosion happened.”_

The memory faded and Scrimgeour took the memory out of the Pensieve and handed the vial of memory back to the clerk. The Pensieve was left in next to Scrimgeour.

It was a weak bit of evidence, the woman gave a washed down version and she looked to be suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress, but it matched Scrimgeour’s analysis, which made it believable to those who had not heeded Violet’s one wish to keep their mind’s open.

Scrimgeour started again, “Did you take more than one report, Mr Greene?”

Greene nodded firmly, “I took seven, to be exact.”

Scrimgeour’s arms were open wide, “And were the reports similar in any way?”

Greene nodded again, this time even firmer, “They were all exactly the same.”

And they sat there and watched all other six memories. What a waste of time.

Once the final memory had faded, Violet nearly breathed a sigh of relief, she could feel pins and needles in her arse from having sat on the wooden bench for so long.

Scrimgeour addressed Madam Bones and the jury, “Thank you, Mr Greene. There is nothing further from me, but I am sure my colleague over there will have more than one thing to say on the matter of your memories and its credibility as evidence. In fact, I’m quite surprised she hasn’t objected already.”

Violet smiled as she stood up and made her way down to the floor, she felt relief come to her arse, “Funny the things that surprise people, isn’t it? You see, I’m quite surprised my arse hasn’t fallen off with the amount of time I spent sat on that bench waiting for your evidence to finish.”

There was a general laughter at her words. Bones called them to silence. She looked at Violet and Violet could tell she disapproved of her language. It didn’t matter, because she had the audience charmed, far more than Scrimgeour had managed to. A point to her.

Bones looked at her and asked, “Do you have any objections, Miss Evans?”

She spared a glance at Sirius who was looking at her amusedly and impatiently, she said, “No objections here, Madam Bones. In fact, this evidence assists the jury.”

Bones and Scrimgeour looked at her as thought she’d gone mad. She didn’t dare look at Sirius and what his face would have showed.

The clerk came back with her memory of the day she investigated for herself with _Appare Vestigium._ She thanked him when he handed it over and she turned to Greene, “Mr Greene, can you confirm for me that you did not investigate the actual alley where the curse was fired?”

Greene shifted on his feet and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. Violet was ready. Greene was not. “As I said it was pandemonium, people were everywhere, Muggles more specifically. There was no way I could have investigated the alley with magic without a Muggle seeing.”

“Okay, let me ask again, more specifically. Can you confirm that in the time between November 1st, 1981 and today, July 10th, 1994, you have not investigated the actual alley where the curse was fired?” Violet was in the zone. Greene shifted again, he was thinking of an answer, Violet pressurised him, despite the rules, “Any time this week would be nice, Mr Greene.”

Scrimgeour stood up so fast Violet thought he had given himself whiplash, “Objection! The witness is under no obligation to answer in a set amount of time!”

The objection was pointless, Violet had already made it known that he was stalling, things cannot be unheard.

Bones nodded, “Sustained.”

Violet didn’t rephrase, just apologised insincerely. Greene had formulated an answer, “I was never given any instructions to investigate the scene. It was never a case for Hit Wizards, this type of investigation is dealt with by Aurors.”

He had saved his face, Violet then grinned lazily again and clapped her hands together, “That is perfectly true, Mr Greene, thank you for confirming. You see, for those that do not know, I am an Auror and I have investigated the actual alley where the curse was fired.”

She walked over to the Pensieve, and poured the memory from the vial in, “Exhibit A: A memory from November 3rd, 1993, it shows me on the alley off Northcote Road, using _Appare Vestigium._ ”

Violet tapped the side of the Pensieve, just as Scrimgeour had done and there she was, in the middle of the floor. Watching memories of yourself was a decidedly weird thing to do and Violet had noted to herself that she wasn’t going to make a habit out of it.

The memory had just finished after Violet had discovered that it was Wormtail who fired the curse. She was saving the severing charm for a later purpose and Violet had fully decided against showing Wormtail’s Animagus transformation.

The position of the curse was more than enough, so before it faded, Violet tapped her wand on the side of the Pensieve again and the memory froze.

_Her move._

Violet turned to Greene, “Are you familiar with the spell _Appare Vestigium,_ Mr Greene?”

Greene nodded his head, unsure of what was happening, “Yes, it shows spells recently used in the area.”

She nodded too, “And, you are aware that it shows the exact placement of where the spell originated?”

“Yes,” said Greene warily.

“Do you have a clear view of the memory, Mr Greene?” asked Violet, she had made her way over to the witness stand for the prosecution, just to check.

“I do, yes,” he replied much more confidently after Scrimgeour had leant over and whispered something in his ear. Violet looked at the memory from his perspective; he could see it just fine.

“Right, excellent, I can get straight to it then.” She made her way round the memory and stood right next to the place of the golden patch that showcased the blasting curse. “Can you see this golden patch, Mr Greene?”

“Yes, I can,” said Greene confidently. He wouldn’t be so confident in a minute, Violet was sure.

“And, Mr Greene, do you recall that when the memory played not five minutes ago that the golden patch, I am pointing to clearly showed the blasting curse, otherwise known as _confringo_?” queried Violet.

“Yes, I do,” Greene repeated. Violet nearly smiled.

“This, then clearly matches your series of testimonies from Muggle witnesses; that Pettigrew entered the alley first, my client then followed, and the blasting curse was fired from the alley, yes?” Violet said with a hint of a smirk on her face.

Greene had just realised where this was taking its turn, but he couldn’t back out now, “Yes, yes.”

Violet extended her arms as though she had discovered a world secret, perhaps she had, “And you can see that the curse was fired not ten centimetres from the brick wall at the end of the alley, yes?”

Greene shifted slightly, but he tried to hide it, “I can’t be sure that it’s ten centimetres.”

“Would you like me to measure it for you?” asked Violet and the audience laughed lightly.

“No, no that won’t be necessary,” scoured Greene.

“But you’ll agree with me, that the curse was fired remarkably close to the brick wall at the end of the alley, yes?” Oh, this was much more fun that Violet had thought it would be.

“I – yes, I suppose,” blustered Greene, he looked angry at his bluster.

“Then, if we follow your testimony and evidence, it is clear that in the alley Pettigrew would have been closer to the wall than my client, and so, following your testimony and evidence, had my client been cornering Pettigrew, we can conclude two things:” Here, she paused for dramatic effect.

“The first one being, that if, as the prosecution have said, the curse was fired by my client whilst cornering Pettigrew, Pettigrew would have had to lose a considerable amount of weight in a very short space of time to be able to fit in a gap as small as that, and according to your testimony and evidence, we can safely say that when Pettigrew entered the alley was ‘a bit on the fat side’.” The audience laughed lightly again at her remark. Bones called for silence.

“The second one being, that if the curse was fired by my client whilst cornering a newly slimmed down Pettigrew, the blasting curse would have fired in the opposite direction to which it did. That would be,” she stood by the memory with her wand out and muttered ‘ _Point me’_ and then concluded, “East instead of West, do you agree, Mr Greene?”

Poor Arnold Greene looked convinced himself, “It’s possible, but couldn’t they have moved around in the alley?”

“Objection!” Violet swivelled round at record pace to Bones, “The witness is only here to testify not to ask questions.” It was a bit of a pointless objection, because Scrimgeour would just take over for redirect examination, but it was sustained all the same.

Violet went back to her stand and let Scrimgeour take over once again. She wouldn’t be here for very long; she already had a plan for the re-cross.

“Mr Greene,” Scrimgeour began, “As Miss Evans has so kindly pointed out no one watched the interaction between Black and Pettigrew. This means that it would be entirely possible for Black and Pettigrew to have moved about whilst in the alley, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, entirely possible,” said Greene confidently.

“And it would be entirely probable for Black to have just fired the curse at Pettigrew, even if Pettigrew was not backed into the wall?” questioned Scrimgeour slyly.

“Entirely probable,” confirmed Greene.

“Well, there you have it, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, Miss Evans’ piece of evidence contains little validity and I hope you can see that,” Scrimgeour looked pleased with himself.

Violet stood up and laughed lowly, “You didn’t think I was finished yet, did you Mr Scrimgeour?” She turned to Bones, “I have every right to re-cross examine, Madam Bones, yes?”

“Yes, perfectly true, you have every right,” agreed Bones.

Violet nodded and made her way back down to the floor. They would break for lunch after this, which was annoying, because Violet was happy to carry on. She was getting impatient, as was Sirius. This was the biggest pissing contest Violet had ever part-taken in. She couldn’t tell if she was enjoying or sick of it.

She told the clerk what to bring and he scampered off to get her second piece of evidence.

“I do agree with you, Mr Greene, it was entirely possible that my client and Pettigrew moved around in the alley, maybe that’s how he managed to lose the weight so quickly. However, I will have to disagree with you on the point that it was not entirely probable that my client, over there, fired the curse at Pettigrew.”

The clerk had returned with her evidence, she thanked him and off he went.

“Exhibit B, ladies and gentlemen: The wand that belongs to Sirius Black,” and my, oh my, did that create shockwaves around the room.

She held it up to the jury, “This wand was obtained by former Auror Moody twelve years and eight months ago, when my client was sent to Azkaban, or, rather, when my client was chucked into Azkaban without a trial. The wand, without having the formal instruction to be snapped, remained in the Auror Headquarters for those years. And before you object, Mr Scrimgeour,” Scrimgeour closed his mouth but remained stood in his stand, “the wand owner was confirmed by Garrick Ollivander, five days ago, in the presence of myself, Madam Bones and Jerimiah Smith. You can confirm, Madam Bones?”

“Yes, the wand has not been tampered with, and it does, indeed belong to Sirius Black,” concurred Bones.

“Right then, I’ll make this quick, I know pissing contests are never all that enjoyable for an audience,” there were several laughs and Bones called for silence; she glared at Violet, “Mr Greene, you are aware of the spell _Prior Incantato,_ yes?”

“Yes,” said Greene in a hardened voice.

“You understand, Mr Greene, that when I perform that spell on this wand, with my own wand, that the last performed spell by this wand will be shown?” asked Violet cheerily.

“Yes,” said Green in the same voice _. It was a pity for him_ , thought Violet _, to have been dragged into all this shit._

She was leaning on the witness box casually, right in front of Greene, just so he could see the last spell that was performed and not at all to see Violet’s smug smile.

“Excellent!” She brought her own wand to the tip of Sirius’ and cast the spell loud enough for the whole room to hear, “ _Prior Incantato,”_ and there it was, a simple Apparition spell. Violet grinned lazily, “You can confirm for me, Mr Greene, that my eyesight is not faulty and that the last performed spell on this wand was the Apparition spell?”

Ah, Violet would have felt bad, but, you know, incentives to fill and all that.

Greene looked to be struggling with his words, but then wheezed out a, “Yes, yes, it’s the Apparition spell.”

Violet turned to Scrimgeour with her lazy grin still covering the bottom half of her face.

Round one to Violet.

* * *

**Lunch Break.**

Lunch went for forty-five minutes. Violet, however, had thirty minutes and counting, because Bones had called them for a meeting in half an hours’ time. It would be enough time for Violet to do what she needed to.

Violet was stuffing a sandwich into her mouth, quite ungracefully and with all the decadence of a troll, but she really couldn’t care less. She was winning and she was hungry. She was also sat opposite Sirius Black in his detainment cell.

“You were better than I thought you would be,” said Sirius honestly, while he ate his own food with much less vigour than Violet was doing.

Violet swallowed her mouthful hard, and grinned, “I was better than _I_ thought I would be.”

It would be a fair analysis to say she was more than chuffed with herself. She had a very, very good chance of being able to do this thing.

“When did you learn all that stuff about the law?” asked Sirius.

Violet shrugged as she started peeling into her orange, “Not sure really, reading and watching and whatnot.”

“The audience loved you,” remarked Sirius, watching her amusedly as she promptly crammed half an orange into her mouth.

Violet winked at Sirius, and once she had swallowed the half of the orange said airily, “Oh, you know me and my charming personality, it’s positively infectious.”

Sirius barked a laugh at her, “I’m glad to see that you’re still as humble as ever.”

Violet laughed and stood up, she had a couple people to see and a rat to check up on, “You’ll be cleared by five this evening, I swear it.” She stood up and walked towards the door and shoved the other half of the orange into her mouth.

She didn’t hear, but Sirius mumbled, “I’m praying on it, Freckles.”

* * *

She walked as fast as her legs could take her, up two floors of the Ministry to the nearest toilet facilities. Once in there, she locked herself in a cubicle, after smiling at some other Ministry woman who was washing her hands. Violet set down the lid of the toilet and pulled her bag out of her boot.

Removing Wormtail’s cage, she placed it on top of the toilet. Her body froze as she waited for the other woman to leave.

When the door closed for certain, Violet turned to Wormtail, and spoke quietly and dangerously, “You will follow with my plans. You will submit to using Veritaserum. You owe it to so many people. Your mother’s here, did you know? If only I knew what she was going through, then maybe I would be a bit more sympathetic. But then I suppose I do, to lose the one person you love most in the world in one night,” she laughed humourlessly, “I’m afraid I beat her on multiple accounts. Tell the truth or I’ll kill you and _you know I will._ ”

Wormtail was scuttling around in his cage, but with no avail. There was no escape.

Her eyes bore into the beady ones of Wormtail, “ _Tell the truth, or die,_ ” she hissed.

And it worked, Wormtail stopped moving and quivered at the back of the cage. His head made a jerk, which Violet read as a nod.

Good. She meant it when she said Sirius would be cleared by five.

Violet stood up quickly, put the cage back into her bag, stuffed it back into her boot, unlocked the door and stepped out as though she had not just threatened to kill someone.

She checked herself once over in the mirror, her hair was fine, her face was slightly flushed with anger, pride and determination, an odd mix and it stood out against her pale skin and the huge scattering of freckles on her face. It also clashed a little with her hair.

Going over to the tap, she splashed her face with cold water and immediately felt better.

She did it again, turned off the tap and then left the bathroom.

Scrimgeour had one more witness, he should have gotten more, but he hadn’t expected anything from the defence, so he had prepared for nothing. Actually, Violet guessed he had prepared for the argument that it had been in self-defence, not that Sirius had never committed the crime in the first place.

She would deal with the other witness and then bring out her own.

Violet took a breath; everything would be fine.

Through the huge crowd of people, she eventually had managed to find Harry, Remus and Hermione, who were all talking animatedly about something. Something Violet could guess.

* * *

“Not talking about me, are you?” Violet announced her presence.

“Violet!” exclaimed Harry. Violet grinned in reply.

“Hello,” she reached up slightly to hug Remus.

He hugged her back and whispered in her ear, “You were really good, at least three-quarters of the audience believe it wasn’t Sirius at all.”

She smiled at him when she pulled away, “I’ll get all of the audience and all of the jury by five this evening.” He smiled back at her. His eyes told Violet that he believed it would be true and Violet was more than pleased with that.

She turned to Hermione and hugged her too, a girl who Violet thought was just wonderful, “How are you enjoying it so far?” Violet was only partly joking.

“Oh, it’s amazing! It’s all so fascinating! Thank you for letting me come,” exclaimed Hermione sincerely.

Violet waved away her thanks, “If it’s any benefit to you, I’ll be glad you came.” Hermione beamed.

Turning to Harry, Violet brought him in for a hug too. This was the first time they had seen each other since term ended, the first time Violet hadn’t picked him up from the station, “You got something up your sleeve?”

Harry broke away first and replied, “Yeah, I think so, but it won’t be as good as whatever you could do.”

“It doesn’t matter, the audience and the jury won’t care how smart-arse your comments are, it just needs to make them feel something, pity or sadness, both preferably.” She turned around to check no one was watching her, “You’ll need to move out of the viewing stands and into the witness block, the moment Scrimgeour rests his case, that’s after the second witness is sent away. Try and be as discreet as possible. Are you nervous?” Violet said the instructions quietly so only Remus and Hermione would be able to hear, she didn’t need any earwigging.

Harry nodded a little jerkily, “A bit,” he admitted.

“Don’t worry, everything’ll be fine, but just try and look like you’re not bricking it, even if you feel like shit, just pretend that you don’t. Oh, and show that you truly, _truly_ believe that Sirius is innocent -,” she held up her hand before he could interrupt, “I know you do, but everyone else needs to know too. You need to _show it._ ” She checked her watch, she needed to be with Bones and Scrimgeour in five minutes. Her half an hour was nearly up.

She turned to all three and said hastily, “I need to go, I’ll see you later,” she pointed to Harry, “Don’t bugger it up, but if you do, I’ll be there to try and fix it.”

And then she was gone.

“You’re late, Evans,” said Bones, as she noted Violet’s presence in the room. Violet was slightly out of breath due to the fact that she had ran through the Ministry halls at record speed. Scrimgeour was already sat in the chair opposite Bones’ desk.

Violet made her way to the other chair, which she presumed was for her, “Sorry, I was speaking to my client, his detainment cell is quite a bit away from Level 2, and the lifts were crammed with people.”

She checked her watch, she was only late by two minutes and forty seconds, but who was counting. Bones gestured to the chair, “Sit down, Evans.”

She sat down.

Bones looked severely at the both of them, “You are two of my best Aurors,” Violet would have been flattered had she not had a trial to win, “after this trial is over, whatever the verdict, you will have to work together again, as Head and Deputy, can you assure me that neither of you will carry any bad blood from the courtroom to your place of work?”

There was a pregnant pause, before Scrimgeour said, “Yes.”

Bones turned to Violet, who was holding back several sarcastic comments, “Evans?”

Violet did the same lazy grin she had adopted in the courtroom, “Not a problem.”

Bones pursed her lip and stared at Violet shrewdly over her monocle, she then turned back to Scrimgeour, “I want this to be over today, do not try and delay the trial -,”

Violet cut in, just because she couldn’t help herself, “This _is_ a delayed trial, delayed by twelve years and eight months.”

Taking a deep breath, Bones turned back to Violet, “Have you quite finished?” When Violet said nothing, she carried on, “do not try and delay the trial, you will work with what you have got, it looks bad enough on the D.M.L.E. already. Do you understand?” The question was directed more at Scrimgeour, but both of them gave an answer.

“Yes,” gritted out Scrimgeour.

“Understood,” said Violet cheerily.

“Good, off you go then, the trial resumes in five minutes,” said Bones nodding towards the door.

The both of them stood up and headed towards that door, Scrimgeour left first and Violet heard him striding down the corridor. Violet was about to head out too, but Bones called her name, “Evans, I would appreciate it if you stopped handing out smart-arse comments at any time you see fit.”

Violet grinned, not a lazy one, but a full one, “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it, Madam Bones.” And then she left the room quickly before she could be chastised.

Violet would never stop handing out smart-arse comments at any time she saw fit. It was her favourite thing to do.

* * *

**The trial – the second half.**

“The prosecution calls, Gwendoline Summerville, Healer,” Scrimgeour’s voice boomed out. He was more determined, noted Violet, he was ready-ish. Violet hadn’t a clue what this Healer would be testifying for.

Gwendoline was noticeably more nervous than Greene had been. Violet supposed it was only natural, Greene was a Hit Wizard, they were notoriously hardened people, Summerville was a Healer, they were notoriously kind and gentle people. Summerville was far out of her comfort zone.

She spoke about her years as a Healer, Violet wasn’t paying too much attention, she, quite frankly, didn’t care.

Finally, she got on to the reason she had been called in as witness, “I have worked a lot in mind-healing, it becomes easy, after a while, to spot madness. There are a few cases in St. Mungo’s right now and I have seen a fair few of them, which is why I believe that, that man, Sirius Black is as guilty as he is criminally insane.”

Violet stood up so fast she felt wind blow past her. What the _fuck_ was Scrimgeour playing at? “Objection! This is a trial to prove guilt for the murder of thirteen people, not a trial to prove stability of mind!” Violet was practically shouting.

She was furious, so furious that she marched out of her stand and down to the floor to stand directly in front of Bones to make her objection clearer. Bones was looking at her as though she was sorry, “Overruled.”

Violet eyes were flickering over Bones’ face just to make sure she wasn’t joking, “Why? Why has my objection been overruled?”

“Stability of mind can be a defining factor as to why a crime was committed,” said Bones grimly.

Violet laughed out sharply, “No, it can’t! You murder someone because you want them dead not because you’re ‘criminally insane’. Insanity is a medical problem not a trial case.” Her voice was loud enough for the whole room to hear her, “If insanity is a trial case, maybe we should call Bellatrix Lestrange from Azkaban just to prove that _she’s ‘criminally insane’_.”

Bones didn’t let go, “Your objection has been overruled, Evans, sit down.”

But Violet didn’t let go either, “My client is not being charged with suspicions of madness. Besides, if you’ll recall, I remember our esteemed Minister over there, confirming not eleven months ago that my client was sane as could be.”

“Objection!” cried out Scrimgeour, “Miss Evans has no right to testify until the direct examination has been complete.”

Bones nodded, “Sustained. Evans, you have every right to cross-examine, sit down and wait until Scrimgeour has finished direct examining.”

Violet stared at Bones, with nothing but utmost anger. She took in a shaky breath and stormed back to her stand. She was not prepared for this, she had nothing _to cross-examine with_. How was she supposed to prove that Sirius wasn’t insane?

Scrimgeour had a smug smile on his face and Violet wanted nothing more than to wipe it off with her own fist. Staring at Summerville, Violet started formulating her plan, she was going to rip the woman and Scrimgeour to shreds and she now had an advantage; they already thought they had won this round.

Scrimgeour was on the floor, “Mrs Summerville, in what way can you tell Black is criminally insane?” He had learnt from his first mistake. Good, Violet wanted this over with.

“Well, laughter after committing a crime is a sheer sign of madness. I studied it a few years ago, on many cases, such as Black’s and Bellatrix Lestrange.” _What a way to spend your time,_ thought Violet hotly, “Madness can also be a sign of inbreeding, and it has been know to travel through the Black family like fiendfyre; they are first cousins, Black and Lestrange.”

Sirius was seething, almost as much as Violet was.

She had underestimated Scrimgeour and this bloody woman. She wouldn’t do it again.

Scrimgeour asked, “So, you’ll agree with me that it is possible that wanting people dead can be a want out of madness and insanity?”

“Oh, yes, yes definitely possible,” assured Summerville.

“And, you’ll agree with me, Mrs Summerville, that madness and insanity is hereditary,” asked Scrimgeour.

“In most cases, yes,” confirmed Summerville. Violet hid a smile; she had a plan.

“Well, ladies and gentleman, I should like to remind you, that Black willingly gave up the location of the Potters, there is only one thing we can conclude from that, and that is, that Black wanted the Potters dead. I should also like to remind you that Black was laughing manically when he was found on the alley off of Northcote Road. In fact, I should like to present to you a memory, obtained from former Auror Alastor Moody, the moment he got to the crime scene.”

And they watched, the memory, of Sirius laughing.

Violet could see Sirius’ fists clenching. Her own breathing had stagnated.

Scrimgeour gave the memory back to the clerk and turned to Summerville, “Mrs Summerville, you agree with me that that laugh was no laugh of humour?”

“I do, Mr Scrimgeour,” said Summerville; Violet felt herself bite her tongue.

“And Mrs Summerville, you would agree with me, of course, that that laugh matched your studies of signs of madness?” queried Scrimgeour, he had a lazy grin on him and Violet bit her tongue harder.

“Yes, quite perfectly,” admitted Summerville.

Violet had stopped listening and only stood up when Scrimgeour had concluded and pissed off back to his stand. She could taste blood in her mouth from where she had bitten her tongue too hard. She masked her face with a smile and looked oddly cheery.

_Her turn._

“Good Afternoon, Mrs Summerville!” Violet beamed at the Healer, who was staring at Violet with an odd look. If Scrimgeour was going for sarcasm, Violet would hand it back ten times harder.

“Afternoon,” greeted Summerville much less cheerfully.

Violet had walked down to the witness stand with quite the spring in her step, “You just gave quite an interesting analysis on the Black family, you wouldn’t mind if I asked you a couple questions to just understand a few things, would you?”

Summerville shook her head, Violet happily spoke again, “You’ll need to speak, Mrs Summerville, for the record, you see.”

She leaned forward slightly, “No.”

“Thank you, see I just have a couple questions about your testimony on madness being hereditary and how that would effect the other members of the Black family.” Violet was leant casually with an arm rested on the wooden gate, half facing the rest of the court and half facing Summerville.

Scrimgeour stood up quickly, “Objection! This is a trial to prove the guilt of Sirius Black, one member of the Black family, other members of the family have not been charged!”

Violet smirked slightly as she fiddled with the hem of her robe, she looked disinterested as Bones called out, “Overruled, your direct examination contained an analysis on the entire Black family, Miss Evans has the right to cross-examine every word of your testimony.”

Scrimgeour sat down angrily and Violet cocked an eyebrow at him.

She stopped fiddling with her robe and clapped her hand to her forehead in mock confusion, “What was I saying? I seem to have forgotten after that unnecessary objection. Oh, yes that’s right, the other members of the Black family.”

“I have never read your study on hereditary madness, so I believe my knowledge is lacking in some parts. You are aware, of course, Mrs Summerville, that Andromeda Tonks works as a Healer in St Mungos, alongside you I presume, is cousin to my client and sister, although disowned, to Bellatrix Lestrange?”

Summerville had realised what Violet was going to do and a slight blush had appeared on her cheeks, “Yes,” she said shakily.

“So, my apologies for my ignorance, but according to your testimony, that would mean there was every possibility Andromeda Tonks could start killing people out of hereditary madness, would it?”

Summerville’s blush had intensified and was now shifting a little, “Madness can be shown in various ways, not necessarily killing people,” her voice was still shaky.

“But it is a possibility, yes?” asked Violet in mock fascination.

Summerville gave a jerky nod.

Violet said, “For the record, Mrs Summerville.”

“Yes,” the blush intensified still.

Violet put her head in her hand to stare at Summerville in wonder, “Incredible, I never knew,” she spoke in awe, “I suppose that would stand for Narcissa Malfoy, my client’s other cousin, and younger sister to Bellatrix, would it?”

Narcissa was in the crowd. Malfoy was on the jury. Malfoy was a powerful name. Mrs Summerville was, for lack of a better word, fucked. Violet knew it. Scrimgeour knew it. Summerville knew it. Everyone knew it.

Summerville was as red as a tomato, “It’s not – It doesn’t always happen to all family members.”

“But it is a possibility, yes?” repeated Violet.

“Yes,” said Summerville faintly.

“How fascinating, you learn something new every day. Anyhow, I digress,” she removed her hand from her face and brought it back to lean on the wood, “were you aware, Mrs Summerville, that my client, Sirius Black, ran away from his family home at the age of sixteen to live with James Potter, because he hated his family and everything they stood for?” Violet took a quick turn, her word still stood, and her watch now read ten past two.

Summerville shook her head, “No, I was not.”

“Was that a sign of madness that you studied, running away from a family you hate?” asked Violet.

“Er – no, it was not,” her face was less red.

“So, you would agree with me then, that it was an action made with a completely sane intention?” Violet’s fingers were tapping on the wood, in a very irritating manner.

“I was not there when Black left his home, I cannot be sure if it was sane or not,” Summerville looked pleased with her answer, but she had just walked headlong into Violet’s plan.

“So, then Mrs Summerville, does that mean, given that you were not there when my client was laughing on the alley off of Northcote Road, that you cannot be sure if he was sane or not?” asked Violet with a hint of a grin on her face.

“No – No – I saw the memory of Black laughing, I haven’t seen the memory of him leaving his home,” said Summerville.

“The memory?” Violet had made her way back to the middle of the floor, she then smacked her forehead again as though she had remembered something spectacular, “Oh, yes, how could I have forgotten? Right, sorry, it was just the evidence contained such little credibility I zoned out while it was playing. And I say that, because, Mrs Summerville, you’ll agree with me, won’t you? That the memory was taken after the blasting curse was fired, the blasting curse that I have already proved was not fired by Sirius Black?”

Summerville nodded confusedly, “Yes – but I’m not sure what this has to do with my testimony.”

“Ah, you see, Mrs Summerville, it has everything to do with your testimony, because you gave the testimony under the allegations that my client had murdered Pettigrew and twelve Muggles, did you not?”

“Yes –,”

“But we have already concluded that my client did not murder Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles, have we not?”

“Yes –,”

“Then Mrs Summerville, you can agree with me, surely, that my client must have been laughing for another reason than murdering thirteen people?” finished Violet.

“Yes, but then who did fire the curse?” Who did fire the curse, indeed?

Summerville wasn’t allowed to ask questions. Violet objected. It was sustained. And that was that.

Violet looked at Scrimgeour.

Round two to Violet.

* * *

Sirius and Violet made eye contact, she had already won, but she was going to do this anyway; Wormtail was going to suffer for what he did. Sirius nodded at her and Violet smiled a little.

Her watch read that the time was just going on three, she would have Sirius cleared by five. Harry had successfully made his way to the witness block; Violet winked at him and he winked back with a smile on his face.

Violet looked at Bones, who was watching her curiously, “My first witness is going to need some assistance getting in, he’s quite heavy you see, would you mind if I just stepped outside to give him a hand?”

“No, no, you’re within every right to do so,” answered Bones mildly.

“Great, thanks,” Violet said happily, before she left the courtroom and disappeared into a small secluded area at the back of the courtroom.

She reached into her boot, crouched down and pulled the cage out of the bag. She undid the enchantment on the door of the cage and pulled Wormtail out before he had a chance to escape. She had a firm grasp on him and pointed her wand at him.

He wasn’t wriggling and for a second Violet thought he had died, but then once she uttered the spell and in Wormtail’s place stood Peter Pettigrew, who was breathing just fine, she realised that he was alive and well.

He didn’t look stunning, but he didn’t look like he had been in a cage for the last week and that was all that was important. Violet hauled him up on to his feet and he stumbled slightly. She whispered in his ear, “I always live up to my word, Pettigrew, remember that before you decide to do something stupid.”

She didn’t let go as the both of them walked into the courtroom just in case he was stupid enough to run away. She called out, “Witness for the defence, Peter Pettigrew.”

There were gasps and shouts of incredulity, the journalists were going crazy. Violet didn’t dare look at Pettigrew’s mother.

Crazy. Complete madness. Violet was rather impressed with herself.

She brought Wormtail in front of Bones, who looked shocked, “Do I have permission to use Veritaserum?”

The Counsel, which consisted of a load of Ministry officials, including the Minister, made the quickest decision they had ever made in their lives and gave Violet permission to use Veritaserum.

The clerk brought it in to her, along with another chair, at the command of Bones. This was much too serious for Wormtail to just have been stood in the witness stand. This may as well turn into a trial within a trial.

The chair was placed next to Sirius’ and Violet pushed Wormtail slightly to edge him into the chair. Sirius was looking in all directions apart from Wormtail’s; Violet quickly followed his gaze to see he was looking at Harry.

Unstopping the small bottle of Veritaserum, she brought the stopper with the connected pipette out of the bottle and tipped Wormtail’s head back slightly. His hands were shaking, and he was quivering a little, but he made no resistance.

Violet squeezed three drops into his mouth and then reclosed the bottle and handed it back to the clerk, while the Veritaserum took its effects.

Wormtail looked dazed, Violet began, “What is your full name?”

“Peter Pettigrew,” answered Wormtail in a monotonous voice.

Violet cut straight to the chase, “Were you Secret Keeper for Lily and James Potter?”

“Yes,”

“Did you willingly give up their location to Lord Voldemort, resulting in their deaths?”

“Yes,”

“When did you turn spy for Lord Voldemort?”

“September 18th, 1980.”

“Did you fire the blasting curse at Sirius Black, killing twelve Muggles?”

“Yes,”

“Did you then fake your death by cutting off a finger?”

“Yes,”

Violet turned to everyone, “Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have found our killer.”

It was quarter to four. Scrimgeour couldn’t cross-examine, he wouldn’t, because if he did, he would just make himself out to be a fool. Violet had won, well and truly won. Everyone knew it. But she wasn’t done yet.

She nodded to Harry and said, “Second witness for the defence, Harry Potter, Sirius Black’s godson.”

And yes, you could safely say that, Violet had won.

And Harry Potter was actually one hell of a public speaker. He answered Violet’s questions with sadness and anger, talking about how he had had no one for so long, until Violet had come along. He had thought all his family was dead, but now he realises that there is more to family than blood. And he answered Violet’s question perfectly on what he wanted to happen to the true murderer of his family.

Once Harry and Violet had finished, Scrimgeour did not cross-examine, because, let’s be honest, what was he going to say? The jury left the courtroom to discuss the verdict. It was laughable really, they left the courtroom for what Violet had counted to be a solid 58 seconds, before they came back, and Dumbledore whispered the verdict in Bones’ ear.

Bones nodded; the time was now ten to five.

Everyone waited silently as Bones stood up and said, “Cleared of all charges.”

Violet’s whole face lit up, she turned to face Sirius who had a huge grin on his face. Sirius stood up and Violet threw her arms around him. They stood like that for a while, ignoring the chaos of the audience, he said, quietly in her ear, “You did it, Freckles.”

Violet grinned so broadly her cheeks began to ache.

She had done it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The trial sequence is very loosely based off of the British and American legal system. I'm not a lawyer, and if there are any lawyers who read this, I apologise. Also, I don't think the trial matches Canon, but ah well, I suppose that's what AU is for.
> 
> I hope you like it though, it's another big one x
> 
> Also, I've gone on a bit of an editing spree, I don't intend to make a habit out of it, but there are quite a few changes, including the title. You don't have to reread it if you don't want to, it's not necessary, but do feel free ;)


	6. Chapter 6

Harry was happier than he had ever been. It was quite remarkable actually how fast Sirius and Remus had slipped into his and Violet’s little life. Just like that.

Sirius was staying with the two of them, in the guest bedroom, that Violet admitted had never been used before. Remus flitted in and out, staying here and there, he had a house that he hadn’t been in in nearly a year; it had gathered dust, he had told them, and he needed to get rid of the dust. That and everything about him being a werewolf.

Remus would come to Violet’s on the full moon, where he and Sirius would pop off for a few hours into the woods a couple miles away from Violet’s house, before Sirius would manage to haul the two of them back and let Violet fix them up. Harry said that; it had only happened once, but Harry hoped it would happen many times more than once.

Violet seemed, to Harry anyway, happier than he had ever seen her, and he was sure it was to do with Sirius and Remus. She laughed much more now, and she cracked jokes more often than not. Harry was the same, he knew it and he knew Violet could see it too.

Sirius, well Harry didn’t really know Sirius, but he was happy too, he also seemed to be getting younger and younger every day, probably in the knowledge that he was free, and with the company. He and Harry shared a common adoration for Violet Evans.

There was also a lot of swearing in the house. Violet and Sirius being the main reason for that. Now, Harry was well aware that Violet was foulmouthed, he loved it, but he knew that Violet did her best to try and refrain herself when she was around him. However, that never really worked, and it definitely wasn’t working now, not as Sirius gave Violet a very good run for her money on the amount of swear words that could be uttered in a day.

Remus thought it was ridiculous, but Harry knew that was just pretend.

So that was why Harry didn’t even hesitate to tell the two adults about his dream of Voldemort and Pettigrew the morning after it had happened.

“And it hurt did it, your scar?” asked Sirius suspiciously.

Harry absentmindedly traced his fingers over the scar in question, “Yeah, only for a bit though and then it went away, you think it actually happened?”

There was every possibility that it had actually happened because Peter Pettigrew, the bastard, managed to get away while the chaos over Sirius’ innocence. In complete honesty, Harry hadn’t been too concerned until now, Sirius was free, that was the most important thing. But, now, if the dream Harry had was real, Harry was much more concerned with Pettigrew’s escape.

Violet looked at Harry, torn between concern and amusement, “It would be quite the dream if it wasn’t real. But you said you were, what? Observing?”

“Yeah, I guess, I was just sort of there watching it all, but I can’t really remember much about it, but it was definitely Pettigrew and Voldemort,” said Harry.

“Have you ever had a dream like this one before?” questioned Sirius.

Harry shook his head, “No.”

Violet looked at Sirius and then turned back to Harry, “We’ll keep an eye out for anything suspicious and you do the same, particularly with the Triwizard Tournament and the World Cup.”

Violet had been given four tickets for herself, Sirius, Harry and Remus from Fudge directly, an invitation into the top box. It was funny actually, the Ministry were doing all they could to get Sirius on their side, in fact, Violet and Sirius had both been offered Order of Merlin’s, First Class. The both of them had declined.

Sirius had fully decided on taking the piss with his innocence, which meant that now whenever they were in public Sirius made it known that he was there, free and innocent. He watched with glee as everyone paved the way for him, staring and whispering, some smiled and greeted him with apologetic sympathy. Violet thought he was an idiot.

After a month off of work, at which no one had complained, Violet needed to go back. She loved her job and she was ready to go back, especially with the new bonuses she had been given. She had been given weekends off now, which was a change; Violet had only ever had days off when she had requested them, she had also been given a raise, which meant she was the highest paid Auror at the minute, and the highest paid Muggle-born Auror in all magical history.

There had been calls for Scrimgeour to resign and let Violet take over, but then Violet had released a statement praising Scrimgeour, not only as a good Auror, but as one of the best Head Aurors the Wizarding World could hope for.

Really, it had been Violet's peace pact to Scrimgeour. She was finished fighting unnecessarily with him; she had meant it when she had said there were worse people in the world than Rufus Scrimgeour.

It had been the best summer Violet had had in a long time.

Only if you excluded the horrific event that had taken place the day before Harry’s birthday –

_Both Harry and Violet were sat at the kitchen table staring at the spaces directly above each other’s head. They both had red faces, and neither could look each other in the eye._

_“So,” Violet wheezed out, “er- do you…knowhowitworksthen?” Violet said it so fast, she was surprised Harry had understood her._

_Harry wasn’t fairing much better, “Er – yeah – kind of – I think.” He had heard conversations between Dean, Seamus and Ron, and he wasn’t an idiot, he knew how babies were conceived. But that didn’t mean having the conversation with Violet was any less embarrassing._

_Violet then stood up abruptly, “Sirius can do this, he’s your godfather.” She then marched out of the kitchen and Harry could hear Violet and Sirius having a hasty and rushed conversation in the hallway._

_Sirius then came in and he had been worse than Violet. Much, much worse._

_Neither of them had been able to look each other in the eye properly for the rest of the day._

And that had led them all here, to the Quidditch World Cup, or rather, after the Quidditch World Cup and at the brink of the first Death Eater attack since 1981.

Violet shook Harry awake viciously, calling his name relentlessly, “Harry, Harry, wake up!”

Harry’s eyes bolted open, “What’s wrong?” his words were slurred together.

“There’s a Death Eater attack, you need to get out,” Violet spoke as she handed Harry his coat, “Have you got your wand?”

Harry did not have his wand.

Violet cursed, she turned and rummaged around in her bag, with the undetectable extension charm, Harry asked, “Where are Sirius and Remus?”

Violet fished out the Invisibility Cloak, “Gone to help.” She walked back over to Harry who now had his shoes on, “Here, take this, don’t do anything stupid, Ron and Hermione are waiting for you in the Weasley’s tent. Run and hide. I’ll find you later.”

Harry nodded and left the tent.

Tipping water over the fire that was still burning in the middle of the tent, Violet tied up her hair and left the tent as well.

The moment she got out, Violet was faced with utter chaos, there was screaming, shouting, and people were running in all directions, whether to find lost children or to try and make a run for it. Violet quickly scanned the crowd, one of the many benefits of being tall, and found the source of the chaos.

She weaved in and out of burning tents, trying her hardest not to trip over any of the pegs that were all hammered fiercely into the ground. She caught sight of the Muggle family that had been hoisted up into the air and Violet scowled. It was foul. Really fucking foul.

And it had been planned. That, Violet knew for certain.

They were cloaked in black robes, with their stupid masks on, it was just as Violet remembered it from when she had been a teenager. Only this time, she was a fully trained Auror, not a young schoolgirl.

It was then, as she was sprinting, that Violet saw a child no older than eight running in the direction of the marching Death Eaters. She changed direction immediately. Sprinting and hurdling over pegs and twisting around tents, she grabbed on to the crying child and pulled him back behind one of the tents.

Her heart broke at the sight, but there was no time to waste, she spoke softly and calmly, “I need you to be brave for me, can you do that?”

The boy was hiccupping and fat, crocodile tears fell out of his eyes and down his cheek, but he nodded all the same.

Violet smiled warmly and then said, “Can you go back in that direction,” she pointed back, away from the Death Eaters, “and find a really good hiding spot, so that the bad people won’t be able to find you?”

The boy nodded again, before turning and running back in the direction Violet had pointed in.

Violet stood up and looked around, the Death Eaters had moved farther along the campsite. She hadn’t seen any sign of Sirius and Remus. Her heart was now beating at an above average pace; she had the familiar feeling of rushing adrenaline.

Focusing herself, she set off again.

_Bombarda Maxima!_

Violet hurled the powerful curse into the centre of the Death Eater formation. She had managed to find a load of Hit Wizards and general members of the public brave enough to fight, trying to attack the formation of the Death Eaters.

It was rendering futile though; they had no formation. It was nearly awful. They were just hurling hexes and curses at the group relentlessly. They were predictable, which made the counter-attack easy to enact, as proven by this group of Death Eaters.

Her curse had broken the formation slightly, the two Death Eaters in the middle had been blasted to the side and thus taking a couple others with them in their wake.

She jogged over to the other people; Violet thought she caught sight of Sirius, but then she became distracted with the new plan of the Death Eaters, they had dispersed and were taking on smaller groups of people at a time.

_Reducto!_

Violet had her wand pointed at a lone Death Eater; he blocked her curse. Violet changed tactics too, she moved closer to the Death Eater who had blocked her curse. He had sent one straight back at her. She blocked it.

Her goal was to identify the Death Eater, that way she would be able to lead an investigation and hopefully get this Death Eater to admit that he had not seen the error in his ways, and was still fully devoted to the Dark Lord and killing and enslaving Muggles and Mudbloods alike. Because there was only a select number of people who could be in the masks now.

_Protego Horribilis_

_Incarcerous_

_Accio Mask_

_Immobulus_

_Fumos_

The two of them had gotten closer together. Violet couldn’t see because of the mask, but she could practically feel the sneer the Death Eater was giving her.

He sent a _Crucio_ at her and Violet dodged it by a hair’s width. She felt positively alive. Her hair was crackling, and her blood was rushing. She grinned crookedly at the Death Eater.

“That spell was illegal, you know,” commented Violet lightly, “Could get life in Azkaban for that.”

She sent curse after curse and blocked curse after curse. Going again for, _Accio Mask_ , Violet aimed her wand perfectly, began the wand movements.

And that was when the Dark Mark showed up in the sky.

The Death Eater froze. All the Death Eaters froze, and Violet looked around in confusion.

Everyone just stopped for a moment and stared. It was almost comical. No one had seen the Dark Mark in a long time, it was as though everyone had forgotten what it looked like.

Then, time caught up with everyone and Death Eaters began to disapparate all around them. They hadn’t planned the Dark Mark, Violet realised, they were scared of it.

She scanned the mess the Death Eaters had left; no one looked to be seriously hurt, a couple of bruises and scrapes here and there. Her eyes then latched on to the Muggle family that were unconscious on the ground a few feet back.

Violet doubled back to check that they were only unconscious. She crouched down beside the father, Mr Roberts, and felt his pulse. The moment she did a figure came and crouched beside her, “Hello!”

Violet jumped out of her skin; she nearly sent a curse at the figure, but then she saw who it was. It was Sirius Black.

He looked positively thrilled. There was a spark in his eye. A grin situated on his face. He looked like he had had a good duel. Violet imagined this was the most exciting thing that had happened to him in a long time. Besides, it was the thing Sirius had always been best at, duelling Death Eaters. Violet remembered as clear as day.

Hand on her heart, trying to slow her pulse, she turned to face him properly, “Hello, help me get him up, would you?”

Sirius nodded and went round to the other side of Mr Roberts. Together they managed to haul him up, so his arms were slung around either of their shoulders. There was a tree nearby, so they took him over to it and propped him up, away from the madness of the campsite.

“Where’s Remus?” asked Violet, standing up from where she had been crouched getting Mr Roberts into a position that kept him stable.

Sirius swiped his forehead clearing the sweat, “He went to find Harry and his friends the second the Dark Mark went up. Got all mother hen-like,” he sounded amused, “I saw you duelling, you’ve gotten better.”

Violet scoffed a laugh and the two of them started heading back into the madness, “I’m glad you think so, how old was I the last time you saw me duel? Like 14?”

“Something like that,” said Sirius vaguely.

Sirius seemed to be staring at someone, Violet followed his gaze. It was Scrimgeour, making his was quickly over to Violet, “Evans,” he ignored Sirius, he also looked like he had been taken rather abruptly out of bed; he was still wearing pyjamas, “I need to find Fudge, you need to round up the Hit Wizards and tell them they need to be in the office by eight tomorrow – today, rather. You’ll need to be there too; Bones has called a department meeting.”

He left before Violet could reply. Her watch read it was half three in the morning. Department meetings were held rarely, they were saved for cataclysmic events.

She turned to Sirius, “Harry’s lost his wand, I know,” she nodded in agreement with Sirius’ face, “how do you manage to lose your _wand?_ But anyway, he’ll need to find it.” She hugged him, “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Freckles,” said Sirius and off they went in opposite directions.

* * *

By the time Violet had got home at six the next day, or the same day, she was positively exhausted. It was like a direct repeat of last year, absolute summer chaos. She practically fell into her living room, that could be argued wasn’t even hers anymore, to find Sirius and Harry in an extreme game of chess and Remus sat on the sofa reading the Daily Prophet.

She pointed to it, “Don’t bother reading that, it’s full of shit.”

All heads turned to her, Harry was first to notice her haggard appearance, “What happened to you?”

Violet plopped herself down on the sofa, other side to Remus and ran a hand down her face, “Fudge. He has his head shoved so far up his own arse; I’m surprised he can see.” There were snorts at her words, “He’s refusing to see that the attack was made by Death Eaters who _he_ let off. Or no, he’s refusing to admit it, and now we can’t lead a proper investigation because Fudge is running the country off of his own fucking pride.”

“What are the Aurors doing then?” asked Remus from his place next to Violet, he had set down the paper.

Violet pulled her hair out from where it had still been tied up from when she had put it up in the tent and massaged her head as it all came tumbling down: it had that achy sore feeling that Violet had never quite understood, “Nothing. Absolutely fuck all. Fudge laid down the rules to Bones, who relayed them to us this morning, ‘no one already cleared of charges can be placed under suspect.’”

Sirius perked up, “Oh, but that’s great, I’ll be fine then.”

They all laughed and Violet stood up and left for the kitchen, where she picked up some bread and ham that Remus must have laid out earlier and came back, with it half demolished already, “Did you find your wand then?” Violet nodded to Harry, sitting back down.

Sirius and Remus looked at Harry in an expectantly way, as if to say, ‘go on then face the wrath alone’, Harry scowled at them, before looking at Violet, who had her eyebrows raised, “It was – er – do you know that it was Crouch’s House Elf, the one who was sat next to me in the top box, who conjured the Dark Mark?”

Violet nodded, Crouch had received a lot of backlash when Sirius had been cleared of all charges, he was now facing even more, “Mm-hmm,” hummed Violet as she ate the last bits of her bread.

“Well – we were there when it was conjured, as in me, Ron and Hermione. We heard the spell, and then when some Ministry people came to investigate, they fired spells into the forest bit, where we heard the voice and Winky, the House Elf, was found with my wand. That was when Remus and Mr Weasley showed up. Crouch used the spell, _Prior Incant_ -,” here he stopped unsure of his words.

Remus finished for him, “ _Incantato.”_

“And it was your wand that cast the Dark Mark,” finished Violet and Harry nodded, “You said you heard the spell, so it definitely wasn’t a House Elf voice that cast it.”

Harry shook his head, “It was a man’s voice, deep; Winky’s was squeaky.”

Violet’s brows furrowed in concentration, “But, hang on, so, Winky took your wand from when she was sat next to you, I’m presuming. But it wasn’t her who actually cast it, so then who did? And how did they get their hands on your wand?”

Sirius voiced his thoughts aloud, “Well, one of the Death Eaters might have been given the instruction or as part of their plan, to break away and cast it -,” Sirius stopped and tilted his head side to side, “but they would have had their own wand.”

Violet nodded a little, “It wasn’t part of the Death Eater attack, they weren’t expecting it. Nobody was, they were as shocked as everyone else, as scared as well. There was someone else there, a third party, who cast it.” Violet looked away and focused her gaze on to the wall, deep in thought.

Remus turned to Harry, “You don’t remember anything from your dream about the World Cup, if it was initiated by Voldemort?”

Harry could barely remember when he had had the dream, it seemed so long ago. He thought hard for a second, before shaking his head, “No, I mean I can’t really remember, but I think – he said that they would have to wait till after the World Cup to attack me, because security would be too high or something. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t initiate something else, just not on me. I don’t know.”

Sirius started again, “Okay, so let’s just pretend that it wasn’t Voldemort who initiated it, the Dark Mark, I mean. Who other than the Death Eaters and Wormtail would have wanted to cast it?” They were all frowned, deep in thought.

Violet said, “Unless it was Wormtail, but then what was Winky doing in the Forest? Unless Wormtail forced her, can you do that to House Elves?” She retailed her thought process out loud.

“No idea,” said Sirius, “But taking the idea that it was Wormtail, why would Winky have taken Harry’s wand? What for?”

“Imperius? Does it work on a House Elf?” Violet wasn’t sure.

“But then it might have been someone else completely, as you said before Violet, a third party,” commented Remus, “Maybe they just fantasize about Voldemort’s ordeals, and thought they could have their moment to shine during the midst of the attack.”

Violet tipped her head in Remus’ direction, “It’s possible, but I don’t know, something’s not adding up with Winky. Crouch knows it wasn’t the House Elf, there’s no way he would bring that sort of attention on to himself, especially not with you,” she looked at Sirius, “out and about now, not unless he was hiding something else, something more important than a House Elf.”

They all fell into thoughtful silence, until Violet stopped thinking, because she realised, she was just going round in circles. She turned to Remus, “What’s for dinner?”

She was absolutely starving, and she was about to drop into exhaustion.

Remus stood up, “Not a clue, it’s your fridge.” He would cook anyway because Violet looked like she was about to collapse.

She had slumped into the sofa, feeling her eyelids drooping, she peeked a look at Harry, “You wouldn’t mind going out to,” she yawned, “take in Amber and Ebony, would you?”

Harry stood up, “No, no, that’s fine.” And he left the room to, presumably, take Amber and Ebony in.

Sirius stood up and cleared away the unfinished chess game, and when he turned back around Violet was asleep peacefully curled up on the sofa, still dressed in her Auror robes.

He stared at Violet’s sleeping figure for a couple of moments, before leaving and closing the door in his heed.

When he closed the door, he shuffled over to the kitchen, where Remus was wading his way through cupboards that he hadn’t quite gotten used to yet. From the window, he could see Harry making his way up the field to either horse.

Sirius still couldn’t quite believe his own luck.

* * *

When Violet woke up it was well into the depths of the night, she sat up, still in her Auror robes and rubbed her eyes furiously. Her stomach growled viciously. There was a crick in her neck from where she had slept with it at a funny angle; she tried rolling it over, but it didn’t have any effect.

There was rustling in the kitchen.

She froze, before realising it could be anyone of Sirius, Harry or Remus. Sirius most likely, he never slept all too well. Still, just in case, she placed a firm grip on her wand.

Flicking on the lights to the kitchen, her eyes squinted impossibly hard, as had Sirius’. She switched them back off, and muttered, “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he was looking in the glass cupboard, for, Violet guessed, a glass, “Remus left food under a statis charm over there,” he pointed, “just in case you woke up.”

Violet nodded but she doubted Sirius could see through the dark. She picked up the plate of whatever Remus had managed to knock up and grabbed a pair of cutlery before sitting down. She said, after Sirius had filled his glass with water, “Couldn’t sleep?”

Sirius just shrugged, so Violet left it at that. She cut into whatever was on her plate and shoved it into her mouth. It was chicken, a little dry, but it wasn’t bad. There were also potatoes and some vegetable that Violet had yet to identify.

She changed the subject, “What are you gonna do when Harry goes back to Hogwarts?”

“Not sure what I could do, to be honest,” said Sirius, keeping his voice low, as Violet had.

Violet thought for a moment, “There’s not much _to do_ , I’ll guess that you don’t want to secure a position in the Ministry.” She put some more food into her mouth. Definitely dry.

Sirius laughed quietly, “I don’t think the Ministry is the place for me. I was thinking that maybe I could go abroad for a bit,” he sounded uncertain of what Violet’s response would be, “travel around, you know, stop thinking for a bit.”

Violet said nothing, more because she didn’t know what to say. She just continued to put food into her growling stomach.

“Would that be alright?” asked Sirius hesitantly.

Violet raised an eyebrow, “I don’t own you; you can do whatever you want.” It had come out snarkier than Violet had thought it would have and she closed her eyes in partial mortification. “That wasn’t meant to come out that way, what I should’ve said is, I’ll miss you in the house, but you can do whatever you want, you’re a free man.” Violet corrected.

She couldn’t see properly, but she knew Sirius was grinning, “I never did thank you properly for that.”

Scraping the last bits off of the plate, Violet said, “Just consider it a half-arsed attempt at an apology.” Her words were more impactful than the tone that she said them in.

Sirius blinked in shock, “An apology?”

Swallowing the last bits of food, Violet answered, “For forgetting that you were the most loyal person I’ve ever met.”

Sirius said nothing for a moment, before he replied, “It doesn’t matter now, it’s done, it happened, we can’t go back and change it if it’s already happened.”

Violet laughed, but it was distanced and cold, “Some nights, I used to lie in my bed at night and think of all the ways I could kill you. And then other nights, I used to lie in my bed at night and just pretend that everything hadn’t gone to shit. Just pretend that they were still here and that you and Remus and Peter were still the same and that there had never been a war, and everything was just fine.” Her eyes began to fill with tears before she quickly blinked them away.

Neither of them said anything, Violet had never told anybody that before. She wished she hadn’t said it all. So, she surprised herself when she continued to divulge into her past to Sirius, “Whenever I used to have to visit Azkaban, which, I’ll admit, wasn’t very often, but we had to, to hand over charged criminals, people that I’d caught. Scrimgeour made it compulsory for us to go, once a year, at least, to the highly warded section, just to see, to know what it was that we were against. He said we had to go to make sure everyone was all still there, but that was bullshit. And I used to go, especially when I had just started out, and watch your cell from a five-meter distance, just stand there and watch.”

“I know,” said Sirius, much to Violet’s surprise, “well, I didn’t know that you used to stand there and watch, but I knew you had to be there, sometimes. I used to watch you pull up on the shore; knew it was you because who else has hair like that, can see it from a mile away. I’d watch you go in and then I’d watch you go out. I saw you once chuck your patronus at a Dementor, I watched it approach you. Bet you got in trouble for that.” He finished with a hint of humour.

And Violet laughed a little at the memory, “I was nearly fired.”

“I don’t – I’m not angry at you or anything for not realising it wasn’t me sooner. I’m not plotting your murder in my bed,” Violet laughed despite herself, Sirius laughed a little too, “I just want to get on with it, you know, just move on. Get past it.”

Violet respected that, hugely, “I’m still sorry though. Really sorry.” It took a lot for Violet to admit that she was sorry, out loud anyway. She didn’t know what that was a testament to.

“And I’m sorry too, for a lot of things,” said Sirius solemnly.

Violet shook her head, “They wouldn’t blame you, well of course they wouldn’t they’re dead, but they wouldn’t. I don’t anyway, neither does Harry, or Remus. You shouldn’t either.”

When Sirius said nothing, Violet stood up and took her plate to the dishwasher, which, admittedly, was much harder to find in the dark than it was during the day. She grabbed a glass and filled it up with water, she gulped it down quickly, before setting it down beside the sink.

Sirius came over and put his glass next to Violet’s. Violet turned to him and hugged him hard.

He hesitated for a moment, then he wrapped his arms back around Violet. She whispered in his ear, “Just make sure you come back, Harry needs you too.”

It wasn’t even a question for Sirius, whether he’d come back or not. He just needed to get out of his own thoughts. It was annoying him, how much he managed to think in one day. Thinking about this and that and this and that.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving forever.”

This and that.

* * *

It was about a week into September, after Harry had gone back to Hogwarts, Sirius had gone off on his holiday and Remus had found a job at a Muggle bookstore, that Violet got a letter from Dumbledore, asking if she would like to extend their discussion of Horcruxes over a light game of chess and a cup of tea.

Violet thought Dumbledore was hilarious.

She said yes before she had even finished reading the letter.

Which brought her here, to Dumbledore’s office, playing chess with him. She realised it had been at least a couple of years since she had sat here, opposite Dumbledore and humbly lost yet another game of chess to him.

She watched with narrowed eyes as her queen got smashed to pieces, “I’m still convinced you’re cheating. How is it that I’ve gone, what is it now, thirteen years and never won a single time?”

Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling, “Some of us just, quite simply, do not possess the pre-requisition of patience to conquer the game of chess.”

Violet scoffed a laugh, “Patience is not a pre-requisition for anything, it is a useless skill, practised by the fainthearted.”

He smiled kindly, “I believe that it something an impatient person would say.”

Running her fingers over her lip, she shook her head in amusement; she had missed chatting with Dumbledore. It still baffled her how much had happened in the past three years, since Harry had gone for his first year at Hogwarts. She looked up at Dumbledore and asked casually, “So, these Horcruxes then?”

Dumbledore stared at Violet with his eyes twinkling still, “On the right person, impatience can be a wonderful personality trait.” She didn’t even have to decency to look embarrassed, “But, yes, I believe I did request you at the invitation of talking about Horcruxes.”

Violet said nothing and waited for Dumbledore to continue. He gained a more serious expression, “You’ll remember, of course, that once Lord Voldemort was not named Lord Voldemort at all, though hard to believe, he was once a student at this school, and went by the name Tom Riddle.” Violet nodded, she recalled perfectly.

Dumbledore stood up and went over to the basin stand, where Violet knew the Pensieve to be. He took it out and gestured for Violet to come over to him, “I’m sure you are well versed enough with how a Pensieve works, more specifically, with how this one works.”

Violet grinned a little, “They’re very useful things,” she commented.

Smiling, Dumbledore fetched a memory contained in a vial, “Indeed they are, Violet, incredibly useful. Now, if you would kindly join me in watching this memory.”

And she watched the memory, of the young Tom Riddle and the younger Albus Dumbledore, in the orphanage. She watched intently and interestedly.

When they came out of the Pensieve, the both of them sat stood there for a moment, to let Violet digest what she had just watched. Dumbledore gestured for them to sit down once again and Violet spoke up, “He took to the idea of Magic very well, didn’t he?”

Dumbledore nodded, “Very well, one might almost say that he knew before even I told had him.”

Violet looked at Dumbledore, “He was quite strange, wasn’t he?”

“I do not believe it would be an unfair judgement to say so,” said Dumbledore.

“He was very sharp, even as an eleven-year-old,” remarked Violet. Very sharp, Violet had never seen anything like it. Sharper than a lot of people, even at that young age.

Nodding again, Dumbledore agreed, “Tom Riddle was one of the best students this castle has ever seen.” Violet didn’t doubt it.

She said nothing for a moment, before she asked, “He stole those things from the other children, the toys, in a sort of magpie-like tendency, is that synonymous with his Horcruxes?”

Dumbledore smiled at Violet, “I should like to believe it, for if not, and it may be entirely possible, I have been terribly mistaken.”

Violet stared at Dumbledore and debated whether or not to tell him about Harry’s dream. She decided against it: it was Harry’s information to tell. So, instead, she asked something else, “You’ve always said Voldemort’s return is inevitable, so am I right in saying that when he does come back, the only way to get rid of him for good, would be to destroy all his Horcruxes?”

He looked at Violet seriously, “You would be entirely right in saying so.”

She continued to look at Dumbledore, “Do you – are you going to be talking to Harry about the Horcruxes personally?”

“I intend to have a very similar conversation with Harry, in a couple days from now,” confirmed Dumbledore, “Unless, you have anything against that, then as his guardian, you must object now.”

Violet laughed slightly and Dumbledore smiled at her, “No, no, I’m glad, he’ll want to get the information from you personally, not as a relaying piece from me. Oh, and can Sirius and Remus know about the Horcruxes?”

“So long as they do not share the information with anybody else,” stated Dumbledore.

Violet laughed a bit harder and louder this time, “They have no one to share it with, we’re a group of anti-socials, surely you must have noticed, Professor?”

Dumbledore remained diplomatic, “I have always marvelled at the love that you all have for each other, true friendship can be incredibly hard to find.”

It was incredibly hard to find, that, Violet would have to agree.

She also had a feeling Tom Riddle would have agreed as well.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

A strange boy, who had turned into an even stranger man.

Lord Voldemort.

Somehow, he didn't seem quite real to Violet.


	7. Chapter 7

_Sirius,_

_Your last bird was atrocious. I hope you know I spent the better part of twenty minutes trying to get it out of my house. There were feathers underneath the sofa, how does that even happen?_

_Remus says hello; the last full moon was one of his best, so he says. I don’t know if that’s true or not, he’s quite a good liar, our Moony._

_Anyways, how is it going? You sound happy if your letters are anything to go by. I’m pleased, but don’t get too happy, you’ll probably end up blowing up a foreign Ministry of Magic or some shit, and I really don’t want to have to get you out of that trial._

_Nothing of importance has happened over this end, other than that Bertha Jorkins is still missing. I’m less worried than I should be, she used to wander into the Auror office and try to pester us to find out what we were doing. Crazy woman._

_Oh, and Dumbledore got Moody out of retirement. He’s teaching Defence. I don’t know whether I’m pleased or not._

_All my love,_

_Violet._

* * *

_Violet,_

_Your faith in me is appalling. And the bird is fine, stop complaining. You and Harry both; it’s like writing to a couple of old ladies._

_Tell Moony I say hello too, and that he’s not fooling anyone with his bullshit, and that we know there are no good full moons. But it might be true, maybe the werewolf inside him recognises Remus is happy, so it’s calmer. I don’t know how a werewolf brain works, so don’t quote me on that._

_Bertha Jorkins was always nosy. She was also an idiot, which is not a very good combination. I’d say she’d be very easy to lure into a trap, particularly in Albania, as we’ve already discussed, but she may very well just be missing. So, don’t quote me on that either._

_Also, Moody will always be crazy; it’s what makes him so good. But Dumbledore’s reading the signs, he knows something’s up too. I’m more pleased than not, anyway._

_With love,_

_Sirius._

* * *

And life went on. Letters were exchanged regularly. Mirror calls were made weekly. And werewolves transformed monthly.

Life. Life that Violet had learnt to appreciate and love.

As Dumbledore had said, true friendship was incredibly hard to find. Love was incredibly hard to garner. But here Violet was, with both. You could call her unlucky, but, really, Violet knew she was luckier than most.

Time, another fickle thing, had now slipped into October, and Violet had landed herself back in Dumbledore’s office, watching another memory, in an attempt to oust Voldemort’s secret.

Harry and her had conferred detail of both their meetings with Dumbledore. Harry, it turns out, had watched a different memory than Violet. He had watched a memory that showcased Voldemort’s maternal family. They were all Parseltongues, which is why only Harry had watched it, because it was incredibly unlikely that Violet would have been able to understand the contents.

Violet had told Harry about the young Tom Riddle and Harry had told Violet about the Gaunt family and the story about Voldemort’s parents. There was more depth to Tom Riddle and Voldemort than the both of them had ever cared to think about.

She had yet to tell Remus and Sirius, but she would, when Sirius was back. She didn’t want to ruin his holiday. The holiday he had gone on to stop thinking, he didn’t need to be given more information that could wait. And she didn’t think it would be fair to tell Remus before Sirius; she wasn’t sure what kind of thought process that was, but she was sticking to it.

Once out of the Pensieve and sat opposite Dumbledore, Violet asked, “Professor Slughorn altered that memory, didn’t he?”

“It took me a great deal of time to obtain this memory, and I was most disappointed to find that it had, indeed, been altered. I think Horace is ashamed of what he remembers, which is why he decided to, quite crudely, obscure the true contents of the conversation from me,” said Dumbledore.

“He told Riddle, then? About Horcruxes?” queried Violet, in a manner that clearly showed she thought Slughorn was at fault.

“You will recall, Violet, that Horace was very easily charmed by students, particularly by students who not only possessed a talent for Potions, but who also possessed the qualities he admired: ambition, intelligence, resourcefulness. In fact, I do not believe the relationship between Horace and Tom Riddle, was so different to the relationship between Horace and you,” Dumbledore was looking directly into Violet’s green eyes.

Violet spluttered incoherently, “I was not – I didn’t – I never asked Slughorn what a bloody Horcrux was!”

“No, I should hope not, and, you have to forgive me, I did not mean to insult you. However, what I said remains true, you see, that memory was taken from when Tom Riddle was in his fifth year at Hogwarts, Horace’s final year of teaching at this school was in your fifth year. Horace took to you quite quickly, from the very first moment you stepped into his class -,”

Violet interjected, “Only because Lily was my sister, he loved Lily, so he was interested in me by default.”

“Yes, I believe you are right, but as time went on, you gave him a reason to remain interested. Horace used to be quite the gossiper, especially about his little collection of students, who he hand-selected at the premise of his own depictions. He once said and I quote, ‘That young Violet Evans, Lily’s little sister, she’s quite the character. Minerva, you’ll be pleased, another very talented little girl you’ve got on your hands there.’ Not many students made that impression on Horace in their first lesson, in fact, I believe it was only ever you and Tom Riddle,” expanded Dumbledore.

Violet was, for the most part, bashful, but she still did not understand where she came into play with Slughorn and Riddle, she voiced as much, “But I don’t understand how we had a similar relationship.”

“Ah, you see, Violet, as different as you are from Tom Riddle now, you possessed very similar qualities as children. You wanted the Sorting Hat to place you in Slytherin, did you not?”

Violet reeled back in shock, “How did you know that?” She had never _, ever_ told anyone that before. It had been her secret. The secret that she had kept for so long. Because, she was embarrassed.

Embarrassed that she had not got to be a Slytherin, because she had wanted to be one so, _so_ badly. Everything about Slytherin House had appealed to Violet, from the moment Lily had told her about them.

Cunning. Ambitious. Resourcefulness. Determination. Cleverness. All of it. She had even longed for the colour of the ties. That green was Violet’s favourite colour in the world. And she didn’t even care that it still was.

And after being told that she couldn’t be a Muggle-born and be in Slytherin, she had only wanted to be a Slytherin more.

The Hat had sat on Violet’s head for minutes trying to explain to her that it would be best if she went to Gryffindor, because by the time Violet had reached Hogwarts, the war had reached such a point that all Muggle-borns needed to be protected. And Violet would never have gotten that if she had been in Slytherin.

“The Sorting Hat explained it to me, he, too, is quite the gossiper. So, you see, Violet, both you and Tom Riddle knew the moment you found out about the Houses that you wanted to be in Slytherin. You both valued knowledge, ambition, leadership, resourcefulness, and you still do, I’m sure,” Dumbledore had stood up and started pacing on the floor of his office.

“Neither of you came from money, you had second hands from your sisters, Tom Riddle had the grubby uniform from his orphanage. You both hated it. You are both of a lesser blood status, yours lesser than Tom Riddle’s, but for what it meant for the two of you, you both hated it. The both of you were leaders of your friendship groups, although, I imagine, you were a lot less sinister than Tom Riddle was to his friends and yet, none of them ever became real friends. You did not trust your friends, no more than Tom Riddle trusted his. You were both admired by the entire Hogwarts teaching staff, for your work ethic, charm, and magical ability. You were, as Miss Tonks told you a few months ago, regarded with awe by the rest of the Hogwarts students, Tom Riddle was the same. You were both, in short, two uncommonly gifted young people. It is extremely rare to find that. Particularly, to find that within a person, who has such a complex personality.”

Violet sat there in silence, digesting what she had just been told. Eyes focussed on the wood of the desk, she vaguely noted that Dumbledore had sat down opposite her.

A part of her thinks that she knows everything Dumbledore has said to her is true. A part of her refuses to believe it. And another part of her, the most dangerous part of her, likes it. She likes that she can be regarded as ‘special’ and different.

Her thoughts immediately flew to the young Tom Riddle in the orphanage, who had regarded that having Magic made him ‘special’.

And she thinks that Dumbledore can read her mind. She knows that he can see her thoughts flying around in her head. She knows he realises she likes it. Maybe he had known all along.

“But, Violet, there is also a great deal of difference between you and Tom Riddle, a great, great deal of difference. And that, my dear, is through your ability to love. You love Harry, Sirius and Remus with all of your very being, I do not believe I would be wrong in saying that you would die for all of them. You loved your parents, James, and Lily with everything you had. You love your other sister, Petunia, even though she calls you a freak and treated Harry with such disregard. Tom Riddle has never loved anyone apart from himself. He would never die for anyone, in fact, his greatest fear is death. But you, Violet, your greatest fear is yourself.”

Violet reeled again but did not say anything. She had only ever come into contact with a Boggart once, and she had never wanted to see one again. She did not question how Dumbledore knew.

“The very thing you are most scared of is becoming someone like Tom Riddle, of becoming someone who wants power more than love, of becoming the someone who you have thought about many times. It terrifies you, because you have known love, you have known the sheer joy and the complexity of it, but also because you have lost it. That, Violet, that is the difference and it makes all the difference in the world,” finished Dumbledore.

She remained silent. What was she supposed to say to that? Violet didn’t know what to think. Was she reassured? Was she flattered? Was she flat out disgusted with herself? Violet didn’t know.

She really did not know.

“You want me to get the memory off of Slughorn, don’t you?” asked Violet bluntly.

Dumbledore looked at her sadly, “That memory is the only thing that is keeping us from the absolute truth.”

Violet looked away.

 _How weak_ , thought Violet, _to be most afraid of yourself._

* * *

Kingsley, Tonks, and Violet had formed somewhat of an Auror trio. They were a group, that had magically formed, without anyone seeing. Violet and Tonks had become very close after they had spent the better part of eleven months wandering around Hogwarts looking for Sirius. Violet and Kingsley had been close for a very long time, he had been the closest thing Violet had had to a friend for a long time.

Kingsley and Tonks had become quick friends, and best of all, they worked very well with each other.

“Wotcher Vi,” greeted Tonks as Violet walked past her cubicle and down a couple more into her own.

Violet greeted back, “Hello, you’re in early,” she paused for a moment as she ran her eyes over her desk, before asking, “You haven’t seen the case file that was on my desk, have you?”

“Oh yeah, Kingsley took it home last night, after you left, said he wanted to look at it again. He said he would bring it back in tomorrow, so today,” explained Tonks, she had made her way to Violet, after ungracefully tripping over her chair.

Violet nodded, “That’s fine, I’ll just do that later then,” she spoke partially to Tonks and partially to herself. She crouched down by the paperwork files, that Violet was going to start on. When she stood up, she looked at Tonks, “I’m leaving early again tonight, can you lock up for me?”

Tonks looked at Violet suspiciously and teasingly, “How come you keep leaving early? You haven’t got a date, have you?”

Violet scowled at the pink-haired girl, “I do not have a date, and if you’re going to be nosy, you can fuck off.”

“Alright, alright,” Tonks held her hands up in mock surrender, “you don’t have a date, so what do you have then?”

Looking at Tonks with narrowed eyes, Violet said mildly, “I’m going to have tea with Horace Slughorn.”

“Have tea with -?” began Tonks incredulously, “What the bloody hell are you having tea with Slughorn for?”

Violet waved her hand, “I’ve been invited.” No, she hadn’t.

Tonks laughed, “You have no life, you know that, right? Not a single speck of life about you.”

She looked at Tonks with a raised eyebrow, “You’re a right pain in the arse, did _you_ know that?”

Turning around slowly, Tonks said just loud enough for her to hear, “And here I was, thinking you’d finally removed that stick from up your arse.”

Violet sent a stinging curse at the Metamorphmagus and smiled to herself when she saw Tonks jump with a shout of shock.

She loved people; she was not like Tom Riddle. And she would never be like Tom Riddle because of it.

* * *

Triple checking the address, Violet looked at the rather large stately home. Everything about it screamed Horace Slughorn, from the way the windows were set in their frames, to the way there was a pretentious doorknocker, in the shape of a snake, fixed into the door. The front garden was large and well looked after; there were many plants Violet recognised as magical, useful Potions ingredients, valuable.

He didn’t do things in halves, Horace Slughorn.

Her watch read it was exactly thirty seconds before five O’clock. Drawing a breath, Violet watched the little hand tick quickly round the numbers. The moment it reached twelve, Violet banged the doorknocker thrice.

And there she waited. On Horace Slughorn’s porch.

The door was pulled open slightly, and then more widely and Violet came face-to-face with a House Elf. She blinked, a little surprised, “Oh – er – Hello,” she looked about a little awkwardly, “is Professor Slughorn in?” She had never quite grasped the concept of keeping a House Elf, which is why, she supposed, it came as such a shock when she realised it was not so uncommon to have one.

“Yes, miss, Master is in,” replied the House Elf, nodding her head. Violet was sure it was a girl.

Even more awkward still, Violet tried again, “Right and – er – is he…available to have a -,”

Just then Violet was cut off by a large booming voice sounding from inside the depths of the house, “Who is it, Keeley? It better not be that gentlemen from the…” the rest of his sentence faded as Horace Slughorn came into Violet’s view. “My word, is that, Violet Evans?”

Violet laughed a genuine laugh, “Hello, Professor!”

Slughorn looked the same as ever, round by the waist, huge, silvery walrus-like moustache, luxurious clothing, and vast forehead. He looked all the same to Violet, and Violet was grinning wide and proper.

“Violet, my dear! What in Merlin’s name has brought you here?” He had bustled over to the door to get a proper look, just to make sure his eyes were not deceiving him. Quickly noticing the House Elf, he dismissed her, “Yes, yes, Keeley, you can go get us some tea,” Keeley bowed and left, “Violet, come in! Come in! You must be freezing!”

Violet stepped into Slughorn’s home as per his gestures and words and looked around; the house was bigger on the inside than it looked to be on the outside. Magic was an incredible thing. “I’m glad to see you live in a house as tantalizing as yourself,” said Violet cheekily. Flattery had always used to work in school, she had no reason to see why it would not work now.

Slughorn chortled heartily, “And I, Violet, am glad to see that even adulthood has not ridden you of your cheek,” he shook his head in amusement, as he led them both into, what Violet supposed was, the living room, or maybe it was drawing room. Violet had never understood such mechanisms of large houses. “It must have been a family gene, cheek. You and Lily, both. Two of the cheekiest students that ever-stepped foot in a class of mine.”

He gestured for Violet to sit down on some big, plush, velvet sofa, she did and Slughorn went quickly to the cabinet, which from where Violet was sat, she could see held a large group of picture frames. Slughorn picked a couple up and brought them back over to Violet, he said, “I have a feeling you might like those. They are some of my very favourites.” Slughorn sat in his chair, opposite Violet and she looked at the pictures.

And there she was, in a picture frame standing next to a load of other people, no older than thirteen but towering over most of them, with her long, gangly limbs that she had not had chance to grow into, dark red hair plaited neatly in two partings, down either side of her head, a huge cheesy grin and, of course, a huge splattering of freckles over her face.

She could remember the picture being taken, the fanciness of it all. Violet remembered being told, with pride, by Slughorn himself, that she was the youngest person he had ever invited to one of his little parties.

In the other picture, stood Lily, next to a few other people, here Lily must have been around the age of fifteen/sixteen. Snape was in the picture too, brooding solemnly, as usual, nothing much had changed. But there Lily was, young, exact same colour hair as Violet, but no freckles, face less narrow, nose rounder, softer face than Violet's, less lanky than Violet had ever been. Boniness was an Evans family trait, but Lily had somehow managed to grown into her woman’s body, much quicker than Petunia and Violet ever had.

But for the most part, Lily and Violet looked the part of sisters very much. And it was, with a twist in her stomach, that Violet realised Lily had never got to see Violet reach the age of Lily in this picture.

“Professor, these are -,” Violet almost whispered. Violet wasn’t even lying; they were truly amazing.

She looked up to see Slughorn watching her, “I had a feeling you would like them.” It was then that Keeley walked in with a tray of tea and biscuits and set them down on the table. Violet thanked her and Slughorn looked at her strangely, for only a second before dismissing the House Elf.

He leaned forward and began pouring the tea into cups, “You must forgive me, Violet, but I must admit, I was not expecting any visitors tonight.”

Violet had put down the photos and looked at Slughorn with a teasing smile, “No? Funny, I recall you saying something at the door, something about ‘It better not be that gentlemen from the…’,”

Slughorn laughed again as he handed Violet her teacup, which she thanked him for, “Oh, how I’ve missed teaching, only for not being able to teach students like yourself.” Violet took a sip of her tea and smiled slightly into her teacup. Slughorn was watching her with an amused smile, before he carried on, “So, so, Sirius Black, eh? It was quite the month for news.”

Grinning at Slughorn, Violet said, “I hope you know that if you ever need to prove your innocence at a trial, I offer up very good services for a very good price.”

Chortling once again, Slughorn nodded his head, “I have no doubt, none at all. I heard all about the trial, I thought you were mad at first, defending a criminal like Sirius Black, I thought this would be the end of your career, but then you proved us all wrong. Quite spectacularly if my sources are anything to go by.”

Taking another sip of tea, Violet replied, “I’ve highlighted it as somewhat of an all-time career achievement.”

“As you should,” Slughorn took a dip of his tea, “I remember teaching Sirius, quite the troublesome boy. Him and James Potter, couldn’t go five minutes without some great ruckus occurring. But he was a talented boy, very talented, I was great friends with his Uncle Alphard, a brilliant potioneer,” Slughorn faded out in slight mutters.

Violet’s smiled still hadn’t dislodged itself from her face, “He’ll be pleased to know he made such an impression on you.”

He stroked his moustache, and asked pleasantly, “How is he doing then? I cannot imagine getting out of Azkaban is a smooth transition.”

“Oh,” began Violet in surprise, “he’s well, or as you say, as well as can be, I suppose. He’s gone on holiday, to get out from all the attention, I think. As much as he says he likes it, I reckon he finds it a bit bothersome,” explained Violet truthfully.

“Yes, yes, I imagine it is so, especially with the way the Prophet can be. Quite brutal, I must say so myself,” tittered Slughorn.

A silence fell upon them that teetered on the edge of awkward, and Violet _knew_ that she should not have brought up Riddle as an awkward silence breaker: things would only go wrong from there. She knew that.

Some days, Violet really marvelled at her own idiocy.

“Would you mind if I had a look at your other photos, Professor?” asked Violet calmly, trying her hardest not to portray any signs of weird behaviour. Which was decidedly harder than it looked, particularly when you had randomly showed up to your old professor’s doorstep for tea, without an invitation.

“No, of course not, Violet, have free reign, by all means,” responded Slughorn happily.

She stood up and made her way to the cabinet that Violet could see a huge amount of picture frames set upon. Violet pretended to look really interested, but, really, how could she be? She barely recognised anybody on here.

She spotted herself, a couple years older this time, in another picture, looking very much the same; bony, tall, freckly. She saw a couple of people on there from her time in Hogwarts, but Violet struggled to recall their names.

The others were from generations before hers.

Truly, her eyes were scanning the pictures for one boy in particular: Tom Riddle, but Violet couldn’t seem to find him anywhere. There was not a sign of the dark hair, pale skin, handsome face. Not very surprising, in Violet’s opinion; she would have been a bit more than concerned if Slughorn did have a picture of Riddle up on his cabinet.

The moment that Violet said it she wished to take it back. Never had she said something more stupid in her entire life and she feared she had just butchered any hope of getting the memory. A complete utter disaster.

Violet was an idiot.

All because she said the immortal line, “You taught Tom Riddle, didn’t you, Professor?”

So, now, as Violet stood on Slughorn’s porch, after having been ushered out quite hastily, she was seriously questioning her people’s skills. _How the fuck_ had she ever thought that that was going to have worked? Had she really though Slughorn would spill his deepest secret to her just because he was _fond of her?_ An idiot was what Violet was. The biggest fucking moron to have ever walked the planet.

It was dark by now and the autumn air was cool. Her breath came out in short puffs. Her feet moved for her, taking step after step. The Moon was bright, a couple days to the full moon.

As she reached the road, she took a moment to reflect, Violet had never seen Slughorn so out-of-character. She had never seen him so scared and angry and confused, all at once. And now he knew, he knew that Dumbledore had asked her to get the memory.

Looking back at the stately home, with Slughorn’s angry and panicky voice ringing through her head, Violet scoffed, _that went well, didn’t it?_

* * *

October 31st had come around again. Another year Violet had lived with out her older sister and brother. Thirteen fucking years they had been gone.

Violet had known Lily for fifteen years and six months. Violet had known James for four years and two months. She had known people she cared less about for longer. 

She remembered that this time last year, she was still questioning Sirius’ guilt. It seemed ridiculous now, to question it. Violet could have had Sirius out of Azkaban years before, she would have if she had realised sooner, he could have been free years ago, he could have raised Harry, she could have lived with him. She should have. He should have.

Should have. Would have. Could have.

It didn’t deter from the fact that it was already history. It had already happened. As Sirius had said ‘we can’t go back and change it if it’s already happened.’

Taking one last look at the graveyard and at the road down to Lily and James’ cottage, she took in a breath. She hadn’t cried. The first time she had never shed a single tear whilst being in Godric’s Hollow. No tears. Nothing. Dry eyes.

Violet didn’t know if that was a failure or a success.

But what Violet did know was that Harry’s name coming out of the Goblet of Fire was, quite possibly, the biggest fucking failure Violet had ever been a part of. Un- _fucking_ -believable.

The time was nearing midnight and Violet had received the mirror-call from Harry a couple of hours earlier. He had been angry, quite understandably, and he had been scared. He had told Violet everyone thought he had put his name in the Goblet himself, and that because he was _Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived_ , it must have been possible for him to get through Dumbledore’s age line, because he had some super-duper dark powers that no one knew about.

Violet was the same, pretty much. Terrified, angry, terrified again, confused.

She walked in powerful strides, through the wards around her piece of land and into her house. The sky was black. The clouds were the blankets for the stars. The Moon was but a slither of silver in the darkness. And the world was quiet. Even if it was just for a second.

A gentle humming noise twisted around Violet’s head. In throughout her brain, past every brain cell and nerve. Through her blood and out through her fingertips. She did not know what it was. But she could feel it, tingling. Humming. Whispering. Floating. Tickling.

 _Maybe,_ thought Violet as she locked the door to her house, _it is just the duplicity of magic and it’s might._


	8. Chapter 8

Sirius had come back to England immediately after the news reached him.

He had come back looking much, much better. A lot less tired and haggard. A lot less like he’d been rotting in Azkaban for twelve years. Once the trial had been over, he had shaved off his beard properly and got his hair cut evenly, which had helped, but there had been a tired look behind his eyes. And now it wasn’t there, or if it was, Sirius had hidden it very well.

He didn’t look like the old Sirius? the young Sirius? The other Sirius? Violet didn’t really know how to place it. He was different and the same all at once.

But it meant now that Sirius was back, Violet could tell them about the Horcruxes. Which had led them back into Violet’s kitchen, wondering just how Harry managed to get wrenched into the most dangerous shit, every single fucking year.

“Who could have done it then?” asked Violet out loud, she going through everyone it could be.

“Karkaroff,” said Sirius, “traded names for freedom, it wasn’t exactly a shining break-through moment of devotion, and that makes him a liability to both sides.”

Violet nodded, it was the only possible solution, and yet? Something didn’t sit right, but Violet had next to no idea who else it could be. Remus voiced his thoughts aloud too, “But what would Voldemort be gaining out of having Harry in the Triwizard Tournament?”

“It’ll be for a plan,” stated Violet seriously, “most likely a plan for his return, that’s Voldemort, I mean, but I don’t understand why he would need Harry for that? Or maybe it’s just a distraction, but that seems like a lot of effort for just a distraction.”

Voldemort had made at least one, knowing, attempt to return. Violet remembered; she had been there. It was what Violet could be sure on, that he was trying for another comeback. She just couldn’t be sure on everything else surrounding it.

Sirius shook his head, “I don’t think it’s a distraction. But then, as you’ve both said, what would he need Harry for?”

Remus’ head shot up from where he had been studying the Prophet cover, with Harry’s face on the front, “Perhaps he just wants Harry to kill. Harry is currently the only thing between him and his former glory, once he’s returned, that is. So, if he could kill Harry, then…well,” Remus trailed off. It seemed excessively morbid to be talking about Harry’s possible death.

Violet ran her fingers through her hair, only to be stopped as she got caught in a knot, “It could be probable. Well, it makes the most sense, anyway. But then…” she scowled, and she ripped her fingers through the knot, “oh, I don’t know.”

Sirius looked at Violet, “Have you spoken to Harry? How is he?”

The mirror was on the kitchen table, from where Violet had spoken to Harry last night. She nudged it in his direction, “Go ask him yourself, he’ll be pleased to speak to you properly.”

Picking up the mirror, Sirius grinned a little at Violet and then left the room. Violet looked at Remus, “He seems better, doesn’t he?” She spoke softly, just in case Sirius might be able to hear them.

Remus looked at the place where Sirius had just been sat, “He seems to be,” agreed Remus.

Violet raised an eyebrow, “And what do you think he really is?”

He looked at Violet, “A bit of a mess.” Noticing Violet’s questioning look, he added, “I don’t think he knows what to think. I think he’s a bit here, there and everywhere, but then, he’s better than he was before he left for his holiday.”

Violet didn’t know if she agreed or not, so she just nodded.

The both of them were silent, and they heard Sirius’ voice and Harry’s more faint voice feeding through the house. Violet turned again to Remus, “Is it bad that I can barely remember what he was like before…everything?”

Remus shook his head, “You were only fifteen, you had only known Sirius for four years.”

 _And two months,_ added Violet in her head, “I tried _so hard_ to forget about him, and all the good things he’d done and all the good things he was, and I think I might have actually forgotten.”

He said nothing for a moment and Violet felt like she had overstepped a bit, but then he asked her, quietly, “What do you remember? Tell me what you remember of him, the good and the bad, just tell me.”

She looked at him strangely, he just looked at her patiently. Violet looked away and tried to remember, “I used to stay with him during Summer, and you lived there too, at the start of the war, when James and Lily had found their own place,” She paused and added drily, “You’ll remember, I’m sure, you were there.”

He smiled a little and said flippantly, “Only vaguely.”

Scoffing slightly, Violet continued, “Well, I was supposed to be with James and Lily, but they would be, what did I used to say? ‘All couple-y and disgusting’, so I would leave and go to your place.”

Remus had an amused expression on his face, “Something about all that mysterious creaking of the bed at night.”

Violet laughed and said with a grin, “They never even used to be subtle about it either, just thought ‘oh Violet’s asleep it’ll be fine’ and then off they went.”

The both of them laughed at the memory, and Remus prompted her, “What then?”

Calming herself, Violet carried on, “He used to just welcome me in without a second thought, never any hesitation, even though he owed me nothing, you both did. And he used to make sure I was alright every day, so often that it became a bother. Even when tensions of the war were high, even when he’d been on some life-threatening mission, he’d still check up to see if I was alright. He couldn’t cook, not to save his life. Burnt everything and undercooked everything else. But he would try sometimes, when Order stuff had been a bit laxer,” she stopped, as though something had burnt her tongue.

Catching her expression, Remus started in her place, “He used to make you laugh harder than anyone else. I remember. He used to make you laugh so hard, you would cry.”

Violet said nothing. She remembered too. But she still couldn’t remember certain things, she couldn’t remember things, memories that she knew had happened. Things that, at that time, she had sworn to never forget.

So, then Violet did as Remus said, and tried to think about the things she could remember.

A moment passed, and then Violet laughed quite loudly, “Remember when I blew a hole in your wall.”

Remus didn’t hesitate and laughed straight away, “I do -,”

He was cut off by Sirius walking back in, with the mirror in his hand, “What do you?”

“Remember when Violet, over there, blew a hole in our wall,” answered Remus, with a smile on his face as he remembered.

Sirius laughed too, “When you decided it would be a good idea to test the Magical Trace and the theory of using another person’s wand at the same time?”

Violet grinned in remembrance, “Proved myself right though, didn’t I?”

_Violet was thirteen, and she was sat on the small table in the kitchen of Sirius and Remus’ flat. It was the first time they had managed to all be together that summer. Lily and James had gone out on a date; Sirius and Remus were meant to be babysitting, or teensitting, as Violet had insisted._

_They were having Chinese, because Sirius couldn’t cook and Remus was hardly a Michelin star chef, and really, who didn’t love Chinese food?_

_“How does the Magical Trace work then? Do the Ministry track the actual person? Or is it the wand?” asked Violet, breaking the silence._

_Remus answered, “The wand, I think, when a wand is bought from Ollivander’s it’s recorded in the Ministry. Then, they know how many years the wand has been active, so they can prove that the user was underage, and there’s a tracking charm of sorts on the wand, that disappears once the owner turns seventeen, so once the wand has been in use for six years.”_

_Violet looked thoughtful, “So then I could use your wand, say, and they would never know it was me?”_

_Looking at her wryly, Remus said, “Yes, I suppose, but whatever spell you did, it wouldn’t work as well, because it would be my wand, not yours. The wand matches the wizard, or the witch, in your case.”_

_“But can I try?” asked Violet._

_Sirius handed Violet his wand, “Go on then, I’m interested to know now.”_

_“Don’t do anything too dangerous,” said Remus warily, eyeing up Sirius’ wand with caution._

_Sirius waved his hand impatiently, “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, it’ll be fine.”_

_Violet grinned and pointed Sirius’ wand at the wall. It didn’t feel like her wand, it just felt a bit like a long stick. Nevertheless, she moved her hand and said, “Expulso.”_

_The spell that came out was weak, and once it had been fired, there was only a little dent in the wall. Violet laughed, “That’s wicked! What happens when you use two wands that aren’t yours, does that make one full wand spell, or is it just double-y rubbish?”_

_For the record, it makes one full wand spell, as proved by the huge hole in the wall._

_Violet thought it was hilarious. Remus thought Sirius and Violet were idiots._

“I distinctly remember the two of you wrestling me to the ground to get my wand,” recalled Remus, only partially fondly.

“Yeah,” said Violet, in a matter-of-fact tone, “Because you wouldn’t give it to me.”

Sirius laughed in his bark-like manner, “I remember your face after you’d blown it through,” Sirius nodded to Violet, he had sat back down, “You got all panicky, what did you say?”

Remus answered, “You shoved the wands out of your hands like a hot potato, and said, ‘You can fix that, right? Holes can be filled, yeah?’” He had said it in such an obnoxiously high-pitched voice, that Sirius had started laughing hard and Violet, whilst trying her hardest to suppress her laugh, punched Remus in the shoulder.

“You’re a right prat, you know that?”

Nah, he wasn’t.

* * *

Sirius lay awake in Violet’s guest bed. It was well into the November night. Everything was pitch black with only the crescent of the Moon and the speckles of the stars shining through.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking, not really, anyway. He had managed to stop thinking about - Sirius didn’t even know. Something had changed. But nothing he could place.

He was happy-ish. He scowled up the ceiling: he felt like he was pitying himself too much. It had been his fault he had gotten into the mess in the first place; he had nothing to pity himself for. And yet, here he was, inside this bloody fucking conundrum, lying awake at night, wondering what the fuck was going on.

He was thirty-five. Moony was thirty-four. Freckles was twenty-eight. And Harry was fourteen.

He was thirty-five and he felt like was only composed of twenty-two years of memories. Well he was. Or, maybe twenty-three years of memories, if you counted the last year and a bit since his escape. His thoughts meandered back to earlier when he had been laughing with Remus and Violet. After he had been speaking to Harry.

He had been truly happy then, thought Sirius. His head had been clear then. His brain had just been in that moment. Not in Azkaban. Not in the sea surrounding Azkaban. Not in some fucked up mush state. Just there.

Sirius rolled over in the bed.

Freckles was twenty-eight. _Twenty-eight._ The number seemed too high to associate with the name Violet Evans. She was old. She had gotten old. Really fucking old.

But then, thought Sirius, wasn’t she everything that he had thought she would be as an adult? Wasn’t she everything she had promised to be? Clever, witty, cunning, ambitious, kind, charming. Wasn’t she?

Yes, she was.

And hadn’t she turned into what could only be described as a beautiful person? Not just in a physical state but in terms of everything.

No, she hadn’t.

Sirius didn’t know how what had happened to her after James and Lily had died, but he knew it couldn’t have been anything good. But she was – _different._ It felt pathetic of him to be judging her when he clearly wasn’t one to talk.

There had been that moment in the Shrieking Shack when she had been well on her way to killing Peter. Sirius also knew he could hardly talk, when it had been him who had wanted to kill Peter in the first place and got himself chucked into Azkaban for it. But she would have done it. Sirius knows she would have.

If he hadn’t yanked her away and gripped on to her, they would have needed to dig a grave.

She clearly didn’t want to talk about it, so he had left it. He had no right to pressurise her for an insight into her thoughts.

It had, actually, been in that moment, that Sirius realised he didn’t want Peter dead, not as much as he had worked himself up into thinking he did. He had, admittedly, only agreed with Violet to not kill Peter just to – well, he wasn’t really sure – but he had fully intended on going against his word and killing the fucking rat anyway. Because he had wanted vengeance more that freedom.

But then, suddenly, he hadn’t. He hadn’t wanted vengeance, not if Violet was going to be the one delivering it, because he was prideful and because he thought too much of Violet. He loved Violet. She was one of the three people left in the world that he did love.

There were three people in Sirius’ mind worth dying for. And Violet Evans was one of them.

Sirius heard the bed creak from Violet’s room, his ears perked up, and then they dropped again when the house became silent again.

She had her faults, clearly, but didn’t everyone? And Sirius thought back to his trial, where Violet had been nothing short of _incredible._ Sirius had no shame in admitting he was still in shock and awe from the Violet that had walked around that courtroom and spoke as she did.

 _Bloody brilliant._ And in a weird way, he had felt proud, sat in the chair, watching Violet work her way around a criminal trial. Just proud to have known that Violet had once been a young girl, who had only ever dreamed of being like that absolute _fucking powerhouse_ in the trial.

Sirius realised he was grinning at the thought.

There was much to Violet Evans that he had missed. There was much to Violet Evans that he knew. And most importantly, there was much to Violet Evans that he was learning about.

Closing his eyes, to try and fall asleep, for what felt like the hundredth time that night, Sirius felt his cheeks slowly relax from where he had been grinning.

Things would get better, Sirius was sure. And not just because there was no way they could get any worse, even if Voldemort did come back, even if Harry was in danger, even if these Horcruxes were the be all and end all, Sirius had not doubt, that things would get better.

He was thirty-five and he had finally gone to sleep.

* * *

Violet lay awake in her bed, with her thoughts flying about all over the place. Dumbledore had told her they would have their next meeting when the memory had been obtained, which Violet had translated to ‘don’t come back until you have the memory’.

She stared around the pitch-black room.

What was she going to do about Slughorn? She had no idea what she could do. There were all sorts of possibilities. She could go back every day and persist him, maybe she would annoy him so much, he would give it up anyway. Violet doubted that would work. She could go back and apologise. That seemed like the most morally correct thing to do.

But then, how would she get the memory?

Or, she could wait a bit and then try again, once Slughorn had had time to mull over the idea. And when Violet did go back, she would make sure she was persuasive enough to just touch his emotions, to make it known to him that giving up the memory was a good thing to do.

In short, she would do everything she hadn’t done the other day.

Her ears perked up when she heard Sirius’ bed creak. They fell with the silence.

Sirius was thirty-five. _Thirty-five._ She truly struggled to believe it. He was old. He had gotten old. Really fucking old.

The more she thought about Sirius, the more she realised she had well and truly forgotten. She thought back to Remus, _what do you remember?_ She remembered the obvious and the clear. She remembered how he used to be so reckless, Violet wouldn’t have been surprised if one day he spontaneously decided to try and fly to the moon on a broomstick. Him and James both.

She remembered that she used to find him so funny. She used to think he was the funniest person in the world. She remembered when he had found her, when she had been in first year and he had been in seventh year, crying in the Gryffindor common room, a couple days after she had been given the news that her parents were dead. He had sat down and talked to her, like a normal person, and just made everything seem a bit better. He had never treated her like a child, the only person who hadn’t.

She rolled over in her bed.

How could she ever have thought Sirius would have done something like that? How could she ever have believed it was him?

She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, was it guilt? Or pity? Or just sadness?

All, answered Violet, in her head; all three.

Closing her eyes, for the hundredth time that night, Violet felt her brain calm down.

Sirius was here. Sirius was free. Sirius was getting better.

A new mantra that had started repeating itself around the quietness of Violet’s head. It was like a chant. A chant that promised hope and happiness. She kept saying it, over and over.

Sirius was here. Sirius was free. Sirius was getting better.

It made her feel better. Just knowing that there was some hope that things would get better, even in the midst of Horcruxes, Voldemort and Harry, things could get better. And Violet had no doubt that they would.

She was twenty-eight, and she had finally gone to sleep.

* * *

“Dragons. That’s the first task, dragons. They’ve got one for each of us. A dragon each. We need to get past it,” said Harry into the mirror. His voice was wary, and it shook a little as he remembered seeing them the night before with Hagrid.

Violet spluttered a little, “Dragons? I thought they said they didn’t want any deaths.”

The mirror was being held by Sirius, in such a way that Violet and Remus had perfect view, even if Harry could barely see the side of their heads.

“It’s – it’s…” Harry wasn’t sure what it was, a disaster felt too common a word for this, “Fleur and Krum know.”

“Who?” asked Sirius.

“Oh, they’re the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions. Hagrid brought Madame Maxime, the Beauxbatons headmistress, on a date. Didn’t realise dragons were so romantic, but she’ll have told Fleur, surely. And on my way back to the common room last night I ran into Karkaroff -,”

“You ran into Karkaroff?” asked Sirius sharply.

“Yes, but I was under the Invisibility Cloak, so he didn’t see me. He seemed a bit too bothered by trying to get to the dragons than about whatever had run into him. He’s probably forgotten by now anyway, but he will’ve told Krum,” explained Harry, a little impatiently.

“Right, and when’s the first task?” Violet changed the subject.

“24th,” answered Harry grimly.

“You’ll need a plan soon then,” said Violet, “Did Hagrid say what you had to do?”

Harry shook his head, “I heard Charlie Weasley saying we had to get past it, but that’s it. How do even get past a dragon?”

“The eyes,” said Sirius quickly, “It’s their weakest point.” He said it as though talking about a dragon’s weak point was some form of everyday conversation.

Harry looked uncertain, “So what spell is that?”

“The conjunctivitis curse?” offered Remus.

Sirius nodded, “It’s probably the best bet.”

Harry looked more uncertain still; he needed something to ensure that he wouldn’t die. There was a very good chance he’d muck up the conjunctivitis curse. Violet noted his expression, “How else can you get past a dragon? Distract it, harm it and what else?”

“Have a chat with it?” asked Sirius innocently.

Violet snorted and then scowled at him, “You can get the tea set ready for it then.”

Remus spoke over them, “You’re unsure about the conjunctivitis curse? I can assure you it’s a very simple spell.”

“I – I don’t know, it seems a bit risky, like, what if I can’t get a good shot?” said Harry. Violet gave it to him; it was a very fair point.

Violet thought for a moment, “They’ll want you to play on your strengths, what’s your greatest strength?” She could list a few, but she wasn’t sure if any of them would help him get past a dragon. Except one. And it was quite possibly his greatest one.

Harry suddenly looked quite embarrassed, “I don’t know, I don’t -,”

“Don’t you tell me that you don’t have any strengths, Harry Potter, or I swear to God, I’ll throw you in front of that dragon myself,” interrupted Violet fiercely.

If possible, Harry looked even more embarrassed, and even more so when he could hear Sirius and Remus laughing at him, “Well – er – I’m quite good at Quidditch,” blustered Harry.

Violet shook her head and murmured, “Quite good at Quidditch, honestly.”

“But I don’t think that’s gonna help me get past a dragon, unless dragons like to play a bit of Quidditch in their free time,” said Harry frustratedly.

“I think what Violet here is trying to get at, Harry,” started Sirius, “is that you’re a great flier. A really bloody great flier.”

Harry was confused, “All right, but I’m only allowed a wand. I can’t have a broom.”

Violet rolled her eyes at her nephew, but he couldn’t see, “Can you do magic, or not?”

* * *

There were a couple of days to go till Harry would be facing his dragon. Hermione, bless her little heart, was helping Harry practise the summoning charm. Violet had been assured, by Harry, that he had practised it so much he was getting sick of it.

Violet was absolutely bricking it.

It was not that she didn’t have faith in Harry. It was just that she didn’t have faith in the ‘dragon tamers’ or whatever they were. She didn’t think a dragon could be stopped if it were intent on killing someone. How were they supposed to stop a dragon breathing fire? If the fire caught on to the person, what were they going to do? Put the ashes back together?

Violet realised these thoughts were not going to help her sleep properly. The knot in her stomach just seemed to be tightening.

Stepping out of the care home, Violet noted that the sky was beginning to darken, with the beginning of winter making its debut. It was cold and Violet had to wrap her coat tight around her abdomen.

She walked along the familiar roads of Camden; her thoughts were on this morning’s trip to the care home to see her grandmother. Elizabeth was worse for wear. Her mind was deteriorating at an incredibly fast pace; she couldn’t even remember who she was anymore.

Violet didn’t know what to think. The nurses had told her this morning that her grandmother’s time left was limited, they expected she wouldn’t last the next year. And in some strange way, Violet was pleased.

Elizabeth had suffered enough. Ten years this had been going on, and Violet just wanted her to be at peace. Violet had seen it every month, she could see how tiring it was and frustrating it was for Elizabeth, to just _keep forgetting._

She stood by the edge of the road and waited for the oncoming car to pass. Once passed, Violet hurried across the road. Violet had a sudden urge to visit her sister.

Violet wasn’t sure what for. She just wanted to see her, maybe let her know that their grandmother was going to die, like their other grandparents, like their parents, like their sister. Violet checked her watch; it was half five. Violet wasn’t all very well versed in Petunia’s life timetable; she didn’t know if she would be busy on Sunday evenings.

 _Probably not_ , thought Violet as she continued to stride quickly down the street, _it wasn’t as if Petunia actually had anything to do._ She immediately felt a twinge of guilt for judging Petunia’s lack of occupation. Petunia could do what she liked; Violet couldn’t judge that.

Or maybe she could, just a little bit, for all the shit that Petunia had done.

Making her way to the outskirts of the town, where Violet knew there to be a telephone box. Her legs powered underneath her, as they always did, Violet liked walking fast. The wind was cold, and Violet could feel her hands starting to become numb. Her breath was coming out in short puffs.

When Violet finally reached the telephone box, she thought her hands were about to fall off, and it hit Violet, in that moment, that she was a witch and that she just warm herself up with a flick of her wand. But then, Violet thought of Petunia and how, weirdly, it felt disrespectful to use magic when she was about to speak to her Muggle sister. Her Muggle sister who had wanted to be a witch like her other two sister.

Violet drew her hand away from her wand, and instead reached for her wallet, where she waded through the mix of galleons, sickles and knuts, to fish out enough twenty, ten and fifty pence pieces that would tie over the conversation.

She also pulled out the little bit of paper that she kept in her wallet, it had written on it the phone numbers that were of any importance. The care home, The Granger’s, her own, Petunia’s, Lily’s old one that she had never had the heart to cross out and her Muggle bank’s.

With shaky fingers, Violet pushed through the coins and dialled the number written on the piece of paper.

It started to ring and Violet breath halted a little.

It rang, four five six times, and then –

“ _Hello, Petunia Dursley speaking.”_

Violet’s eyes darted about uncertainly, “It’s Violet,” she paused, “Your sister.” _That,_ thought Violet, _shouldn’t have needed clarifying._

The other end of the phone crackled and for a second, Violet was worried Petunia would hang up, but then there was an equally uncertain, “… _What do you want?”_

Numerous sarcastic remarks came to the tip of Violet’s tongue, but she swallowed them down, “I would – er – would you like to – can I come see you?” Never in her life had she let out something so pathetic sounding. Violet nearly flushed bright red; she had sounded like a four-year-old.

The other end of the phone crackled again, and Violet could feel her face heating up even more, “… _Has something bad happened?”_ asked Petunia, in a tone that Violet couldn’t identify.

It was then, that Violet let out a sharp laugh, _has something bad happened?_

Yes, Tuney, many bad things have happened.

She swallowed again, “Erm – I – It would be better if I… It’s hard… I don’t think –,” Violet took a deep breath, “Please, Tuney, just one time. That’s all I ask, and then I’ll leave, just, please.”

Violet could feel her face getting redder, even if she were still shivering. Her forehead was rested against the cool metal box; it offered no relief for her burning face.

“ _…I – when are you next free?”_

Now.

“Is next Saturday alright?”

Six days was a long time. Harry may be a pile of ashes by that time. Violet pushed the morbid thoughts away.

“ _Yes, I think I can do that. I’m going to be in London anyway… I can meet you in the café Mum and Dad used to take us to, when she went off to… your school.”_

It was a good job Violet understood those enigmatic words, and Violet didn’t even bring herself to get angry over the fact that Petunia hadn’t said Lily’s name.

“Yes, yes, I can do that. Is eleven fine?” agreed Violet, all too hastily.

_“Yes, yes, that’s fine…”_

The line crackled again, neither sister was sure what to say.

“Alright -,”

_“- Okay,”_

Petunia and Violet had spoke at the same time and had both fallen silent at that.

Violet took her head off the box and said quickly into the phone, “Bye.”

And then she hung the phone up.

She leant back and stared at the black phone. Her hands were shaking, and she didn’t think it was because she was cold. She slipped smoothly out of the telephone box. The crisp air hitting her like shards of glass the moment she started walking down the street, in search for a place to apparate.

Her mind was numb for the most part, but she thinks, as she shoves her hands deeper into her coat pockets, that, _if Harry isn’t a pile of ashes by Saturday, I’ll give Petunia a hug._


	9. Chapter 9

Harry was not a pile of ashes. In fact, he was tying for first-place. Violet had never been more relieved in her life. She had thanked James profusely for passing on some flying gene. She had also been told by Sirius, who had sneaked in as Padfoot, because he was impatient and nervous, which was never a good mix for Sirius Black, that Harry had done the job quite wonderfully, and that he truly was an impressive flier.

But today was Saturday, and Harry was not a pile of ashes, so Violet was going to give Petunia a hug. The thought was proving harder than it should have done. Sisters were supposed to hug all the time, weren’t they?

Violet walked at a steady pace down a London Highstreet, King’s Cross Station was just round the corner. Her watch read that it was five minutes to eleven; she was going to time her entrance perfectly. She didn’t know why she liked to, perhaps it was a nervous habit.

Each step was a second on the clock, _one two three four five._

Violet wore normal clothes, jeans and a jumper, coat as well, because it was the end of November and winter had taken its toll.

She wants to see her sister, although she’s still not entirely sure why, but she knows she doesn’t want to fight, she also doesn’t want to be all lovey-dovey sibling relationship. She doesn’t know what she wanted.

_Six seven eight nine ten._

Catching sight of the café that had imprinted itself in the very back of her mind, from blurry memories and varying senses of nostalgia. She flicked a glance at her watch, twenty seconds till eleven.

_Eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen._

Her hair was down, it was getting long. Violet vaguely noted that she should probably cut it. She wondered what Petunia’s hair looked like, when had Violet even last seen Petunia?

_Sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty._

Summer ’93, to try and track Sirius down. Where Petunia had called her unemployed, and where she had just sat and let that beast of a woman, Marge, talk utter shite about their dead sister. About Lily. Violet wasn’t angry anymore, in all honesty, Violet had a lot more to worry about than the crappy opinion of some horrid woman, that Violet didn’t care about.

_Twenty-one twenty-two twenty-three twenty-four twenty-five._

Petunia had blonde hair. It was naturally a very dirty blonde, but Violet remembered Petunia bleaching it at the first chance she had got. Something to do with Marilyn Monroe, Violet recalled; she had very young, so she couldn’t remember all that much.

It had been very blonde the last Violet had seen of it. Maybe she had stopped bleaching it, maybe she hadn’t.

The café was within five paces, the blinking lights on the door were visible. _Juno_. That was the name.

_Twenty-six twenty-seven twenty-eight twenty-nine thirty._

Violet saw her reflection in the window of the door.

The second hand on her watch had just touched twelve the moment Violet pushed open the door.

Stepping inside, Violet was caught with an onslaught of warm air from the heating. The café was smaller than she remembered it to be, and as she scanned her eyes across the tables, she could feel something boiling in the pit of her stomach.

Petunia was already there, and Violet felt more boiling.

A waitress brushed passed her and apologised. Violet also apologised, for no apparent reason, other than to be polite. She started in the direction of the table Petunia was sat at. There was a sudden urge to just turn around and walk back from where she had come from, but she squashed it down.

_This was Petunia, her sister. Not Voldemort._

And yet, Violet felt as though facing Voldemort would be much less scary than this.

She sat down, opposite Petunia and shrugged off her coat. Petunia had bleached her hair and it was chin length in perfectly styled curls. Violet smiled inwardly, like Marilyn Monroe.

Except, she didn’t think Marilyn Monroe had had such a long neck.

“Er – hello,” began Violet, her voice wavered a little. She gave a small smile.

Petunia looked conflicted, but greeted her cordially, “Hello.”

And a silence fell upon them. A really great big bloody awkward silence.

What did she do now?

Then, saving Violet from the trouble, a waitress came over to the table and asked, “What can I get for the two of you?”

“I’ll have a pot of tea, if you don’t mind,” said Petunia, with a would-be casual tone. Violet nearly snorted, that was not how people who originated from the midlands spoke.

Turning to the waitress, who Violet could see from her nametag was called Jane, Violet gave her response of, “Coffee, please. Just black is fine, thank you.” The waitress, Jane, smiled pleasantly at Violet and she smiled equally pleasantly back.

“Is that everything?” The waitress was very pretty, noted Violet. Dark eyes, dark hair.

“Yes, thank you,” answered Violet and the waitress went away. Filled with slightly more confidence, Violet turned back to Petunia, “How are you doing, then?” That was a normal thing to ask sisters, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, fine, I suppose,” responded Petunia, “Dudders went back to school a couple of months ago; the house has been very quiet.” Was Petunia trying to joke? Or was Violet having an aneurysm?

It also took Violet an embarrassing amount of time trying to work out who Petunia had meant by ‘Dudders’. _Dudley_ , remembered Violet. That was the name Petunia had given to her son, the name of her other nephew.

Violet smiled, but it felt more like a wince, “What school does he go to again?” To be fair to herself, she had never been told.

“Smeltings Academy,” regaled Petunia, with pride. Violet noted that Petunia had the same expression as Lily used to have whenever she spoke about Harry. She kept the comparison to herself.

She had no idea what Smeltings Academy was like. So, she just smiled in her wince-like manner again, “I – er – need to tell you something about -,”

Before Violet could get into the details of their grandmother, Jane, the pretty waitress, arrived with the pot of tea and cup of coffee. Both Violet and Petunia thanked her graciously and she went away.

Petunia looked at Violet expectantly, “What did you need to tell me about?”

Violet swallowed thickly, she gestured with her hands as if they would speak for her. She breathed in hard, “Grandma won’t make it through the next year. The nurses have said so.”

Petunia made no noise, just sat there and poured her tea into her teacup. Violet searched her face furiously for any sign of readable emotion, but there was none. Nothing. She had just told her their grandmother was going to die, like the rest of their family and she was just sitting there, like more important things had happened.

Violet bit her lip and Petunia nearly looked up at Violet, but refrained eye contact. Violet hated her for it. Eventually, after what seemed to be much deliberation, Petunia said, “How are you?”

A look of surprise and confusion came on to Violet’s face, “What?” she asked sharply.

“How are you?” repeated Petunia.

“Spectacular,” replied Violet sarcastically.

Petunia brought the cup to her lips and blew on it lightly, before taking a small sip. She then put the cup down and looked up at Violet, “How are you?” repeated Petunia.

Violet continued to stare incredulously, “Are you a robot?” asked Violet scathingly.

Back straight and head tilted upright, she replied, “I am asking you how you feel about it.”

 _It_ could have been anything, Violet hazarded a guess, “I’m… I’ve got mixed feelings,” answered Violet truthfully, “I’m sad that she’ll be gone, but she’s been gone for a long time now, so I’ll be pleased that she can rest properly.” Violet paused, “How do you feel about it?” She took a sip of her coffee. It burned all the way down her throat.

“It was to be expected,” said Petunia thoughtfully.

“Obviously,” drawled Violet. She hadn’t known what she had really expected from Petunia, but she had at least hoped for something a bit more sincere than whatever this type of response was.

“Was that all?” asked Petunia, taking another sip of her tea.

Immediately, Violet felt righteous anger firing itself around her blood. _Was that all?_ She had worked herself up all week to see Petunia, her older sister. She had been nervous and excited; she had wanted to give Petunia a hug.

_Was that all?_

Violet straightened her back, and bore her green eyes into Petunia’s blue ones, “No, it wasn’t. I also wanted to let you know that Harry is doing wonderfully, much better now that he’s out of that _fucking cupboard.”_ She had hissed the last two words and was pleased to note that Petunia’s back had also straightened and that her eyes now had some recollection of fear.

Petunia’s eyes darted uncertainly around the room, worried, clearly, that someone might have heard. No one had heard.

She had nothing to say in response to that, so she just sat in the unbearable silence. Violet felt herself getting angrier but tried her hardest to keep it down. Petunia was her sister, if she wasn’t going to try, Violet would have to.

Violet took another sip of coffee; the burn down her throat was worse this time. However, before Violet could try to start again, Petunia spoke suddenly, “Did you get him then?”

Once again, Violet stared at her sister with an expression of incredulity, “What are you talking about?”

Petunia took another sip of tea, “Last year, when you came to our house, you were trying to catch an escaped prisoner. Did you get him?”

And then, Violet burst out laughing. A sort of uncontrollable laughter, of genuine amusement and insanity. Petunia was looking at her with the strangest of expressions, and it made Violet laugh harder. There were tears of mirth developing in her eyes and Violet tried, with shaky hands, to wipe them away, “It was…” Violet let out another laugh, “The man we were trying to catch…” she wiped her eyes again, “He was Harry’s godfather.”

Continuing to stare at Violet, Petunia asked warily, “So, he wasn’t an escaped prisoner, then?”

“Huh?” Violet looked up, “Oh, no, no, he was. But he wasn’t actually a criminal, everyone had got it wrong. He – er – didn’t have a trial, you see, so he was sentenced wrongly, well, he wasn’t even sentenced. But anyway, he’s had a trial now, so it’s all alright.”

“Right,” spoke Petunia, slowly, in that tone Violet could never place, “He’s… the boy’s… godfather.”

Violet nodded and tried her hardest to feel no anger, “Yes,” she also spoke slowly, “Sirius is, yeah.”

“Sirius?” Petunia tested it on her tongue, and looked deep in thought, as though trying to remember something.

“He was James’ best friend. James, as in -,”

Violet was cut off by Petunia, her voice was fast, “I know who James was.”

“Er – right,” answered Violet pathetically. Petunia had just killed the conversation.

Taking another sip of tea, Petunia had an unreadable expression on her face. Violet had never been able to read Petunia very well. Lily had always been easy, even if Violet had been young, maybe because Violet and Lily were similar in a lot of ways; Petunia and Violet were not. Petunia began again, “It’s quite a strange name, isn’t it?”

Violet furrowed her brows as she put her cup down from where she had been drinking it, “What is?”

“Sirius,” said Petunia. Violet didn’t like the way she said it.

 _Coming from the woman who named her own son, Dudley,_ though Violet viciously. She bit her tongue to stop herself from saying it aloud, “His family is named after stars,” gave Violet. There was nothing else much she could have said.

Petunia had nothing to say to that, and so they fell into silence again.

Staring at Petunia, who in turn was staring at her, Violet looked about awkwardly, “How is Vernon?”

“Well.”

Right, then.

“And Marge?” tried Violet. She couldn’t tell if she wanted to be funny or wanted to pick a fight.

Petunia’s face contorted into something sour, “Also, well.”

“Shame, I’m not glad,” replied Violet honestly. That woman could rot in hell, for all Violet cared.

Petunia didn’t laugh, nor did she rise to Violet’s bait. Violet hated her for it. She just sat there and drank her tea. Just sat there. Violet bit her tongue again; it was turning into a rather nasty habit, but Violet didn’t know how else to stop herself from saying something terrible. And the pain helped soothe her anger.

Violet opened her mouth, then closed it again, thinking better of it. There was something she wanted to get off her chest. Well, there were many things she wanted to get off her chest to Petunia, but they could wait for the time being. She took another sip of her coffee, a bigger one, it was cooler now, and blurted, “Do you really think I’m unemployed?”

She felt hot under Petunia’s gaze, and shifted slightly in her seat, “No,” said Petunia lowly, as if she was uncertain of herself.

Violet didn’t say anything, just looked at Petunia strangely.

_It was just Petunia. Her sister. Not Voldemort._

Since when had Petunia become so intimidating? Violet could feel herself sweating. Her face was flushing she was sure of it. She took another sip of coffee as a distraction, but that had only made her feel warmer. She gulped it down in a hard swallow, “Why did you say so, then?”

_It was just Petunia. Her sister. Not Voldemort._

No, it was much, much worse than Voldemort.

“I wasn’t aware you were so offended by it. I had just said it as an offhand comment to appease Marge. I didn’t think you would have taken it to heart,” explained Petunia.

Violet could feel herself flushing harder; she felt sweat forming on her back, against the ridges of her spine, “I didn’t take it to heart,” she denied. But her red face gave away her bluff.

She had taken it to heart. Violet had never felt so embarrassed in all her life.

Petunia hadn’t bought her bullshit, and Violet hated her for it. She just looked at Violet archly, with that superior look that Violet remembered being given as a child. Violet took a deep breath, “Do you hate me?”

Violet still couldn’t read the expression that Petunia had on her face, and Violet hated her for it. She realised she wanted Petunia to hate her because things would be so much simpler then. Violet could deal with grief; she couldn’t deal with this. This torture. She needed something to work with.

More sweat trickled down her back. Underneath her jumper, that Violet was now regretting choosing.

Her sister’s eyes darted about the room quickly. No one was listening. Probably because Violet had cast a notice-me-not charm, wordlessly and wandlessly, after the waitress had left their table. She had been worried that they might erupt into a huge argument, and Violet didn’t think Petunia would be pleased with everyone watching.

Petunia looked back to Violet, “Are you sure you want to have this conversation here?”

In other words: yes, I do.

Violet’s eyes started to sting; she needed to get out. Out of this fucking café. Through the blurriness of the oncoming onslaught of tears, Violet had missed Petunia’s look of regret at her words.

Standing up abruptly, Violet removed the notice-me-not charm and tried her damned best to ignore the tears in her eyes. They were not going to fall. Not now. She was not going to give in to a battle of wills. She would not let a single tear drip in the presence of Petunia.

She picked up her coat silently, fished out her wallet and laid a ten-pound note on the table. She then walked briskly out of the café, all without a word.

There was a humming in her ears, maybe that was why she hadn’t heard Petunia calling her name. There were still tears brimming in her eyes, maybe that was why she had missed Petunia looking sadly after her. There was a lump in her throat, maybe that was why she hadn’t said a word before leaving the café.

Violet had been wrong; she couldn’t deal with grief.

Her sister hated her, and Violet hated herself for caring so much.

By the time she had apparated back home, there were tears fully flowing down her face. She couldn’t stop them even if she tried. It was a continuum. Sirius was still out after having gone to watch Harry at the Tournament and Remus was out working in his job, trying his hardest to stay in their good books, as he had taken so many days off work for the full moon.

She practically sprinted up the field, and to the first horse she saw. Ebony. Her own Black Beauty. His fur was fine strands of the darkest black you could ever find, and his mane was darker than that.

Not bothering to saddle up, Violet hoisted herself up on to his back. She murmured through her tears into his ear, encouraging him to go. She then squeezed her legs on his hind, and he started trotting slowly.

She went for miles and miles. Galloping. Up and down. Up and down. Galloping on top of her horse for miles and miles.

At some point Violet dismounted herself from Ebony and stared around at where she was. There was a lake and a lot of trees. Tree after tree after tree. It was pointless, really. She had no idea where she was.

The insides of her legs were aching, and Ebony had trotted over to the lake for a drink. There was a tree stump about a couple meters away. Violet sat down.

She had stopped crying during her ride, but now as she stopped and stared at this quiet, extremely quiet place, she could feel them starting again.

_Petunia hated her._

_Petunia hated her._

Petunia had hated her since she was eleven, why was now any different?

_Petunia had hated Lily._

Violet did not hate Petunia. She just wanted her older sister back.

Petunia was the only real family, apart from Harry, that she had left.

And she hated her.

Violet had brought her knees up to her chest and she suddenly felt very lonely. She reminded herself that she had Remus and Sirius and Harry and Dumbledore and Tonks and Kingsley. She had them all.

But she still felt this single dread in her stomach. A single dread of feeling alone. It ran up the nerves in her spine and she felt it across the goosebumps on her skin. She was alone.

She hadn’t had this feeling for three years. She had forgotten how it felt.

Pretty fucking shit.

Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone.

No, she wasn’t.

Yes, she was.

Was she?

Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. No.

Someone had plugged her lungs and her throat. She couldn’t breathe.

Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. No.

Her brain felt fuzzy.

Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. No.

She tried calling for help, but no one had heard, because she was alone.

No, she wasn’t.

Yes, she was.

Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. No.

She still couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t she breathe? Just breathe for fuck’s sake. But she couldn’t because she was alone.

Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. No.

She couldn’t see either. Why was everything so blurry? Just look, just open your eyes, just look, it’s not hard. Just do it. Do it. Do it now. You’re not blind. Do it.

But she couldn’t fucking see.

And she couldn’t fucking breathe.

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

Because she was alone. No, she wasn’t. Yes, she was. No, she wasn’t. Then, why couldn’t she breathe?

You’re alone and you’re pathetic. You can’t even breathe. You can’t even see. No wonder Petunia hates you.

I’m not. I’m not. I can see and I can breathe. She hates me because she’s jealous.

You sure?

Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. No.

She couldn’t fucking breathe.

Just fucking breathe. Just fucking breathe. Just fucking breathe.

Why could no one hear her? She was shouting, she was sure. Why was no one listening?

Listen to me, please.

Please. Please. Please. I can’t fucking breathe.

Lily, please. Lily. Lily. Lily. Lily.

Lily, help.

Lily, please.

Lily, I need help. Please, I can’t breathe.


	10. Chapter 10

When Violet wakes up it’s nearly dark.

She wakes up to Ebony nosing at her face and it’s decidedly wet and rather disgusting. She wakes up and she’s cold. Really cold. She’s shivering and shaking. She feels like she’s either going to faint or keel over. But she doesn’t because her body can’t decide.

With trembling hands, she reaches up her sleeve and takes her wand out from its holster. She casts a warming charm on herself because she’s a witch and that’s a sensible thing to do. She still feels cold though. She thinks she’s ill. She probably is.

Her brain feels like it’s made of lead.

All her limbs ache. Really ache. They feel like their made of lead too.

She can’t even remember what happened. All she remembers is that she couldn’t breathe, and she feels like she’s jumped in front of a train. She can’t remember.

But she knows she’s lost. And she knows that horses cannot apparate, so she’s stuck. It makes her feel more tired.

Violet tries to stand up and then falls back down when her legs can’t uphold her weight. She’s cold still, so she casts another warming charm, but she still feels cold. She tries to stand up again and she manages to stay up. Why is she so cold?

It takes a few goes, but Violet manages to clamber herself on to Ebony, who has been waiting patiently. Her hands are still shaking, and she wills them to stop. She feels like she’s drowning, but she’s not, because the lake is over there and she’s over here.

For a moment, she thinks she’s dead, but then she reminds herself that dead people can’t ride horses, so she’s probably not.

She thinks that being dead probably feels a heck of a lot nicer than this.

Why is she still cold?

She can barely keep herself upright. She then gets a sudden idea to cast a Patronus, to call for Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, anyone. They would come and get her. Help her. Stop her from feeling so cold. Violet raises her wand, but her brain feels like lead, and she can’t remember the spell. She wafts her wand about, hoping, praying, wishing that it understands what she wants.

But it doesn’t because Violet doesn’t even understand what she wants.

Ebony keeps trotting because he understands. And because it makes sense. No, it doesn’t, but it makes more sense than the tap dancer stomping all over her lead brain.

_Click clack. Click clack. Click clack. Click clack._

Was that Ebony or was that the tap dancer?

She’s still cold and she still can’t remember. She doesn’t know where she is, and she doesn’t know what time it is. All she knows is that she’s cold and she needs to get home. She thinks of warmth, of fire and steaming tea, and she can almost feel it. But she can’t. Because she’s still cold. So, so, so, so cold.

She’s breathing though. And she can see. For some reason, that’s important, but Violet can’t remember why.

* * *

“Violet…Violet…Violet…”

Violet wakes again, this time to someone murmuring her name in her ear. She’s still outside and she’s still cold and she still can’t remember, but she’s home. In the middle of her field. Her eyelids feel stiff, but she gets them open, and it’s bright. Brighter than Violet had ever seen. It’s so bright, everything is white.

And someone is speaking to her, speaking next to her. She tries to look but she can’t see. No. She can. For some reason, that’s important, but Violet can’t remember why. She’s still cold.

“Violet, are you alright?” It was Sirius’ voice. He was home then, like Violet.

Violet wills herself to answer, but someone has stuffed a cotton ball down her throat.

Yes, she tries, I’m alright. But that doesn’t work. So, she tries to grasp on to him, but her hands are still shaking, so that doesn’t work either.

“…Fuck, you’re so pale. Hang on, give me a second…” Sirius is still murmuring. Violet wonders if she’s dying. No, dying people can’t think, so she’s not dead. She’s just cold and tired and achy. But she’s alright. Maybe not all right. She’s more semi-right.

Sirius tries to get Violet to half rest on him and half support herself, but that doesn’t work, because Violet’s hands and knees are shaking. She feels like she’s going to be sick. And she tries to say, sorry. But she can’t get rid of the cotton ball. Sorry, sorry, sorry. It doesn’t work. And Violet still feels cold.

He manages to pick her up fully. Violet wonders how, she feels so heavy. She tries to grip on to Sirius, but it doesn’t work because her hands are still shaking, and her heart feels like it’s stopping. It’s not. At least she didn’t think it was.

His arms are still bony, but Violet matches him with boniness. The friction hurts, but it doesn’t hurt as much as the coldness. She thinks her goosebumps are so big, Sirius must be able to feel them through her jumper. Why is she so cold?

She’s so cold it hurts. And she’s tired. And she can’t remember. She can’t remember and that hurts too.

The tap dancer has started dancing again, but she can breathe, and she can see. For some reason, that’s important. Sirius had carried her into her house and laid her down on the sofa. It was soft and nice, but she was still cold.

There was a bony hand on her forehead, “You’re so fucking cold, Freckles.”

She knows, and she tries to tell him, but it doesn’t work because there is a cotton ball in her throat. She really needs the toilet too; her bladder feels like it’s going to explode, but she doubts she’ll be able to tell Sirius that either, so she holds it.

Sirius vaguely mentions something about warming charms, but Violet is too busy trying to remember, but that doesn’t work, because she just can’t. Violet feels the attempted warming charm, but she’s already tried that, and it hadn’t worked. Had she? Or had she been hallucinating? She can’t remember.

Violet then hears him muttering, as though he was trying to comfort her, “… St. Mungo’s…and I thought Harry had it bad with his dragon…Moony…”

She has enough in her to hear the name St. Mungo’s and want to resist all the way. She grapples on to Sirius’ arm and tries, tries, tries so hard to speak, “...can’t…Mun’s…you…” It doesn’t work because she’s still cold.

“Violet, I can’t – I don’t understand,” Sirius tries, and it works for him.

Violet shakes her head, or she tries to. It feels like it works, but then she guesses it probably hadn’t. She tries, tries, tries so hard, “…not St. Mun’s…please…can’t,” It half works because she hates St. Mungo’s and it half doesn’t work because she’s still cold.

“Not St. Mungo’s? Violet, you need help, proper help. You were out in that field all night,” explained Sirius. And Violet knows, she knows.

She shakes her head again, or tries to, “…please…” She hates St. Mungo’s. She hates it. He can’t make her go. He can’t. She doesn’t want to. She can’t.

Sirius doesn’t say anything for a while, and Violet thinks he’s disappeared, before she realises, she’s still got a grasp on his arm. Violet hears his voice again and sees him kneeling next to her, “Can I at least get someone to come here? Madam Pomfrey or someone? Violet, you need proper help, I can’t – I’m not a Healer.”

She wants to tell him no, and that she’s fine, but it doesn’t work because she’s still cold. So, she nods, or she tries to anyway.

She can breathe and she can see. For some reason, it’s important, but Violet can’t remember why. She can breathe and she can see, and Sirius was here, and he was listening. That was important too, even if she didn’t know why. She was still cold though.

* * *

By the time Madam Pomfrey gets to Violet’s house, through the wards and all, she’s still cold, even if Sirius had lit the fireplace and even if she had multiple blankets on top of her and even if Sirius had cast so many warming charms on her she thinks the magic in his wand has run out.

Madam Pomfrey tells Sirius to leave because she knows what happened. She knows, somehow, and Violet thinks she’s psychic. Sirius does leave, albeit reluctantly, but he does because Madam Pomfrey is really scary. Violet knows that’s not why he left, but she can’t think properly, so she leaves it at that.

“You have hypothermia, Miss Evans,” states Madam Pomfrey. That’s not all she has, and Madam Pomfrey knows it too.

The cotton ball has gotten smaller, so Violet speaks and her voice is raspy, “Can you fix it?” That’s what she tries to say anyway, it comes out much less eloquently, but Madam Pomfrey understands, somehow. Violet thinks she’s psychic.

“Of course, I can fix it, Evans,” says the incredible woman. All she wants is to stop being so cold. Madam Pomfrey helps her sit up, and that hurts too, but it’ll stop her from feeling cold, so Violet does it anyway. Madam Pomfrey hands her some potion and she drinks it because she’s still cold and it hurts.

“You’ll need to take your clothes off. They’re wet and they’re making you colder,” explains Madam Pomfrey.

Violet thinks that’ll hurt too, and she thinks it’ll only make her colder, but she doesn’t know how she can get colder, so she does it anyway. It takes a lot of help from Madam Pomfrey, but she gets her jumper off. She tries pitifully to take her wand holster off, but her hands are shaking so much she can’t take the strap off, so Madam Pomfrey does it instead.

Her goosebumps look like hills and her skin looks purple. Violet hates it, but it hurts more, so she ignores it. “I’ve asked Mr. Black to get you some dry clothes,” says Madam Pomfrey, but Violet’s not listening, because she can see her veins through her skin, and she knows that that’s not right.

Madam Pomfrey gives her another potion to drink and she drinks it, because it hurts, and she wants it to stop. Sirius comes back and she thinks she can see him staring at her purple back, but she doesn’t feel embarrassed because it hurts more. Sirius leaves again after much reluctance again, but Madam Pomfrey is really scary so he leaves. Violet almost wants him to stay, but it hurts, so she can’t find the right words.

Her jeans come off too, somehow. Her legs look worse, more hills and more purple. They’re shaking too and it hurts, so Violet drinks another potion. She still needs the toilet, but it hurts more, so she holds it. Madam Pomfrey helps her into the dry clothes that Sirius brought, and they help a little; she no longer feels damp, but she’s still cold.

“You need a lot of rest, Violet,” Madam Pomfrey uses her first name, so Violet knows she’s bad, “I’ve left a set of potions and the instructions on when to take them. I’m sure Mr. Black will help. I’ll come back in a couple of days to see how you’re doing, you need to take the potions, or you won’t stop feeling cold.” She’ll take the potions.

“Don’t go to work until I come back and see that you’re fine,” Madam Pomfrey pauses and despite how badly it hurt, Violet knew what she was going to say, “If they’ve started again, you need to let me know.” Her voice was calm and patient and soft and caring, and Violet wishes she would stay.

But she shakes her head, “Was just one…I’ll be fine.”

“One can be a triggering device, Violet.” Her voice was calm and patient and soft and caring, and Violet wishes she would stay.

But she shakes her head again, “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ve left some calming draught, just in case. I’m sure Mr. Black will help,” Madam Pomfrey places a hand on her cheek and Violet feels like she’s sixteen again, lying in the Hospital Wing after another panic attack. It was just one, she’ll be fine.

* * *

For the next two days, Violet sleeps and drinks tea and potions. That’s all. It doesn’t hurt anymore but she’s still cold, not as cold, but still cold. Her hands aren’t shaking, and her legs and arms are no longer purple, and she’s been to the toilet. Sirius is worried, Violet is not.

Sirius doesn’t pry though and Violet loves him for it, he just speaks to her like a normal person and she loves him for it. He tells her about Harry and his dragon. She hasn’t spoken to Harry because she can’t, and because she doesn’t want him to see her like this.

Moony comes over and speaks to her like a normal person too and Violet loves him for it. They talk to each other about books, about Muggle and Magical books, because they both like both. She still feels like she’s sixteen and even more so when Madam Pomfrey comes over again and tries to talk to her about them.

She says nothing back, and she knows it’s a shit coping mechanism, but she just can’t. She’s supposed to be twenty-eight. Twenty-eight-year-olds don’t have panic attacks. It’s a shit coping mechanism, but she just can’t.

Violet drinks so much tea and water, she thinks she could piss the Nile. But she has to drink water, otherwise she’ll die, and she drinks tea because it’s hot and she’s still cold.

She’s vowed never to drink coffee again because she has shit coping mechanisms.

At some points, she feels like marching to four Privet Drive and hexing Petunia into next week, but she doesn’t, because she has shit coping mechanisms and she gets scared. Sirius offers to do it for her, and Violet manages to smile weakly, before telling him that she wants to be able to see it, so don’t go.

It’s bullshit.

And Sirius would have called it, but he knows Violet better than that.

She gets bored, and then she goes to work, but then she comes home at lunch because she’s thrown up and she feels like she’s going to collapse. Sirius would have said he told her so, but he knows Violet better than that.

Madam Pomfrey comes back and tells her she’s an idiot, but Violet knows. And now she has more potions to take because she’s still cold and she’s an idiot.

And then, when she’s drinking her five-hundredth cup of tea, she looks at Sirius and feels like she has to tell him. She doesn’t know why, but she feels like she has to. Maybe because she feels like he deserves to know for doing all this shit for her.

He’s so patient for her, even when she knows he would rather be doing anything else. He helps her and she feels like crying, but she doesn’t because she’s fed up of crying. He helps her even though it should be her helping him, because he spent twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he didn’t commit.

She looks at him lighting the fire again, and she feels like crying, but she doesn’t because she’s fed up of crying. “I used to – I have panic attacks,” There she said it. And now she feels like crawling into a hole and dying.

Sirius turns around and he doesn’t seem surprised, because he’s cleverer than he lets on and because he knows, just like Madam Pomfrey. Violet still feels like crawling into a hole. She adds because she can’t help it, “I used to go to St. Mungo’s for therapy, because they said it would be a good idea and because they said it would help.”

Sirius looks at her and he doesn’t seem surprised because he understands. She looks into the fire and Sirius sits next to her. He doesn’t ask who they are, Violet couldn’t even give him an answer if he asked. “I used to be sent to the Janus Thickey Ward.”

Sirius looks at her severely, “For permanent spell damage?”

Violet shrugs, “They don’t have a psychiatric section,” Sirius knows, but she tells him anyway, “You remember, Alice and Frank?” A stupid question, of course he remembered, “I had to sit in that ward and I nearly burnt it down.”

Sirius doesn’t say anything, Violet doesn’t care, because she just feels like speaking now that she’s opened her mouth, “They would sit there, and I would sit there, and they would ask me how I felt. I would tell them to fuck off, but they would keep asking and asking and asking, and I would keep going and going and going, until I stopped going. They just kept telling me that it was alright and that I was just grieving and at some point, when I was older, I would understand.”

She carries on looking at the fire, she can feel Sirius breathing and she was breathing too. That was important. “I hated it so much. They didn’t understand, they could never understand that feeling of being alone. It’s not grief, it’s just loneliness and they could never understand that. I knew they were dead. I knew they were never coming back. I wasn’t grieving, I was just fucking lonely and they never understood.”

She doesn’t feel cold and it doesn’t hurt, because Sirius was here and Sirius was listening, “Then there was this one time, one time that I was so, so fed up and just finished and done with it all, that I put memory charms on them all and stole my records and burnt them all. The only person that knows is Madam Pomfrey, because she’s terrifying but she’s kind and she understood more than anyone.”

Sirius was breathing and so was she, that was important, “How old were you?”

“When I -?”

“When you stopped going?”

“Er – It was a couple of days before my NEWTS started so, nearly eighteen.”

“Seventeen, then.”

“Yeah, to be precise, yeah.”

She doesn’t feel cold and it doesn’t hurt, because Sirius understands and that makes her feel something, something that she couldn’t place. It felt nice to tell someone. To tell someone that – she wasn’t even sure what. It just felt nice and it made Violet feel nice.

* * *

Violet gets better and she goes back to Slughorn, because for the past month she’s continually seen his angry and terrified face at the very back of her mind, and the thought of the Horcruxes is weighing her down.

In the days before, she plans and plans everything, from how she’s going to knock on the door to what she’s going to say. She plans for the worst possible scenario, and she hopes for the best. Sirius goes with her because he gets bored easily and Violet enjoys his company a hell of a lot more than Slughorn's.

He goes as Padfoot though, because he thinks Slughorn is an ostentatious arse, and because he has the patience of a gnat and Violet wants the memory.

Padfoot watches around the house and when he spots Slughorn in one of the windows he ambles back to Violet, who has been sitting on a bench a few houses back, waiting, and huffs at her as confirmation.

Violet stands, and looks down at Padfoot, “If I don’t come back out, I’ve died and Slughorn has put me in some deadly potion. Or, maybe, he’ll give me some deadly potion.”

She knocks thrice on the door, heavily, and this time Slughorn answers the door.

He takes one look at Violet and slams the door shut.

But Violet had planned for that, so she sticks her foot in the door’s closing way, and admittedly, it really fucking hurts, but she wants that memory.

“Professor, I’m not trying to shame you by wanting that memory. I need it, Dumbledore needs it, and I think you know why.”

It works because Violet planned it and because Slughorn knows why.

Violet steps inside the house for the second time and tries her hardest to ignore the throbbing in her foot. She towers over Slughorn and she takes a deep breath, “I’m not here to mess about. I’m not – I don’t care whatever light that memory presents you in, I just need it, not because I want to spread it to the world, but because there are more important things to be dealt with than pride.”

Slughorn stares at her and Violet can feel her heart thumping and thumping, she can feel her blood gushing and gushing, and she can feel the silence humming and humming.

Slughorn knows why, and Violet does too.

But Violet is not leaving, not without that memory. She’ll duel Slughorn if she has to: she is getting the memory.

Slughorn knows this. He knows, he knows, he knows.

Violet hopes it’s enough.

And it is, because he stares at Violet and says, “Do you have a flask or phial?”

Her heart skips a beat and it takes her a moment to actually realise what he’s said. She blinks a bit and feels a bit frazzled, “Er – Yeah – yeah – yeah, I do,” but she manages to pull her bag out of her boots and fish out the flask, because she had planned everything to the last detail.

He puts his wand to his head, and Violet realises this feels a rather inadequate place to be taking someone’s private memory. The recognisable silvery substance gets pulled out of Slughorn’s head and he taps it into the flask.

Violet puts the stopper in the flask, and she tries hard not to feel thrilled. She looks at Slughorn and feels like she has to say something meaningful, but before she can, Slughorn grasps her hands together. His hands are warm, “You have to understand, Violet, that I – that he was – if I _had known_ -,”

Violet cuts him off, and stares at him directly in the eyes, “ _I know_ , Professor, believe me, I do. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Slughorn looks at Violet, and they’re still stood less than a meter from the door, “You truly have a heart of gold, Violet. Truly.”

Violet is only partially ashamed that she blushes, “I mean, I would have thought it would have been red, but…well, Potions must teach you something different.”

Slughorn chortles despite the fact that Violet has the memory, and he lets go of Violet’s hands and the flask encased inside them, “I dare say, you’ll want to get going, memories of mine to watch and all.”

She can’t help the laugh that comes out, “Thank you, Professor. Truly, thank you.”

Slughorn waves her away, “Nonsense, Violet, nonsense. It’s me that should be thanking you.”

“We’ll both thank each other, then.”

* * *

She goes to Dumbledore the next day, with the memory in hand and an eagerness in her stomach. She knocks on the door, and lets herself in, because she forgets that Dumbledore is also a Headmaster and not just a Horcrux-colleague.

All heads turn to her, and by all heads, she means every single fucking teacher in Hogwarts turns to look at her. Her eyes widen comically, “Oh – er – sorry, I didn’t think – er -,” She looks at Dumbledore, “I’ll wait outside, shall I?”

Dumbledore looks at her mildly, “Unless you would like to contribute to the conversation on Professor Sinistra’s request for new telescopes.”

Violet laughs in a very high-pitched tone, half out of genuine amusement and half out of mortification, “I don’t think I have the specialist qualities to be – er – contributing to…that.” She looks around the room, to see a mix of gazes staring at her, “Right, yeah – er – sorry.”

She steps back outside and closes the door, as swiftly as she opened it.

* * *

“You should really have a sign on the door, you know, occupied or vacant, or something. You’d save my dignity,” said Violet as she entered Dumbledore’s office, once all the teachers had left.

“I believe the only thing that will save you your dignity is by waiting for an answer after knocking,” replied Dumbledore, eyes twinkling.

“Yeah, well, as we’ve already discussed, I’m far too impatient for such useless tasks,” battered Violet flippantly.

Dumbledore tilted his head forward slightly, sitting back down in his chair, “As we’ve already discussed.”

Violet already had the bag in her hand, from when she had gotten slightly agitated waiting for the Professor’s meeting to end, “I – er – got the memory.”

She reached in and pulled out the flask that contained Slughorn’s memory, Dumbledore looked at her appraisingly, “I must admit, I hadn’t expected you for a while yet, particularly after your first round with Horace and a bout of hypothermia.”

Staring at Dumbledore, Violet asked, “How do you know about the first time?”

Dumbledore smiled, “Ah, I was assuming it didn’t go all too well, since the Howler I received from Horace was rather exuberant.”

Violet winced a little, “Sorry about that, I – er – wasn’t very tactful the first-time round, shall we say?”

“But, nevertheless, you have the memory.”

“Yes, yeah, I do.”

Dumbledore then stood up once again and made his way to the Pensieve, “If you’d join me, Violet,” he brought the Pensieve into the middle of the room, and Violet had already made her way over, flask in hand.

She poured it in, and Dumbledore made the gesture for her to go first.

* * *

“Seven,” Violet’s voice was hoarse with disbelief, “ _Seven_ , that can’t be possible, you can’t actually split your soul into _seven_.” She had though two or three at most, not seven. Seven wasn’t right, there was no way that was right.

They had sat down at Dumbledore’s desk once again and Violet could feel a burning in her stomach. Seven, fucking seven Horcruxes.

“You will have to remember, of course, that Harry has already destroyed one of them,” said Dumbledore gravely.

Violet pinched the bridge of her nose, “Right, six then.” She looked at Dumbledore, “You have some inclination as to what they might be, don’t you?” He bloody better have, otherwise they’d be wandering about Britain for the rest of their lives looking for six Horcruxes.

Dumbledore looked older than Violet had ever seen him, “I should like to have a joint conversation on that matter, now that we have confirmation, with yourself and Harry.”

Blinking owlishly for a second, Violet replied, “Oh, alright – er – when will that be?”

“Whenever you and Harry and I are all collectively free.”

Violet snorted, “You’re so -,” Violet didn’t even know, “…ridiculous.” Dumbledore smiled at her and Violet felt herself grin back, “Maybe it might be easier if _you_ give us a date, so we, I rather, can make sure I’m free.”

Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling, “I believe that might be possible, although I’m afraid if Professor Sinistra’s telescopes keep zooming out rather than zooming in, I may have to rest myself before we endeavour on this meeting of ours.”

Violet shook her head in amusement, as she stood up, “You’re ridiculous and Professor Sinistra should find better times to request new telescopes, for my dignity’s sake. You don’t mind if I go find Harry, do you?”

“Not at all, for he’s had quite an interesting few weeks, as have you, and I’m sure he will want to share them with you,” dismissed Dumbledore, kindly.

“Right, great, thank you,” said Violet as she opened the door, “See you, Professor!”

“I’ll see you, Violet,” said Dumbledore after her, and Violet smiled back in as she closed the door behind her.

Dumbledore was truly ridiculous.


	11. Chapter 11

Whatever Harry expected to hear, as he, with Ron and Hermione, came down the corridor leading into the Gryffindor common room from that afternoon’s lunch, it was most certainly not his aunt arguing with the Fat Lady.

He could see Violet’s red hair from his place down the corridor and he could hear her voice mixed with the Fat Lady’s, echoing about off the walls.

_“…you know me…”_

_“I most definitely do not. I have had an imposter here before; I will not make the same mistake again.”_

_“Sirius wasn’t even guilty…”_

_“…I don’t care…”_

_“Just open the goddamn -,”_

“Violet! Violet!” Harry called, jogging up to his aunt, Ron and Hermione following him.

At the sound of her nephew’s voice, Violet swivelled around, “Harry!” Her eyes lit up.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here today,” commented Harry as he reached up to hug Violet.

Violet laughed a little and smiled broadly at him, “I was passing by, had a couple things or two to ask Dumbledore and then, thought I’d come see my dragon-slaying nephew.”

Harry understood immediately at what Violet meant with ‘a couple things or two to ask Dumbledore’, but didn’t mention anything on it, as he noted Ron and Hermione’s presence behind him. Before he could reply, Ron cut in, “You should have seen him, it was bloody brilliant.”

Violet directed her gaze towards Harry’s best mate, she flicked her gaze between Harry and Ron, only momentarily, before realising that they must have made up and that it was absolutely none of her business.

So, instead of commenting, she said, “Sirius has told me much the same,” she nodded with a smile on her face, to the bandage peeking out from his top, “Got a scar on your shoulder to prove it, eh?” When Harry scowled at her, she laughed again, “What’s wrong?” Prodding his other shoulder, “It makes you fanciable, you’ve got a Yule Ball coming up, you’ll need a date.” She wriggled her eyebrows at him suggestively.

Scowling harder, Harry stuttered, “I – I’m not – I don’t – I –,”

Violet whispered comically, so that only the three fourth years would be able to hear, “The dark, dashing, heroic young gentlemen. Scar on his forehead from a Dark Lord and scar on his shoulder from a dragon, my, Witch Weekly might even award him most charming smile. Except from the fact that he can only stutter, but who cares of such things, he doesn’t need to speak -,”

She was cut off by an angry looking Harry Potter, who was trying his hardest to laugh along with Ron and Hermione, “What have I done to deserve such a terrible aunt?” He ruffled his hair and said it in such a blasé attitude that, for a second, Violet thought Harry had never before resembled James so much.

“Dunno, but Petunia’s always had a stick up her arse, in fact, I’m sure she was born with it, so…it was fate I guess.”

Harry laughed out hard and Violet felt herself smile at him. Hermione, who had been giggling into her hand, tapped Ron on the shoulder and gestured for them to head into the common room, recognising that they no longer needed to be a part of the conversation.

Ron and Hermione stepped into the portrait and left with a final word of, “We’ll see you in a bit, Harry!”

And before Harry could reply, Violet answered, with a smirk still situated on her face, “He might be a while, you know, all those girls to get through.”

The portrait door closed to Ron and Hermione laughing at both Violet’s comments and Harry’s face, and Violet turned to Harry who was still scowling at her, she nudged him a little, “Do you have an eye on a girl, then?”

“No!” Harry said it so fast, he didn’t even have a chance to realise that what he had said was completely untrue.

“A boy?” The two of them had started walking down the corridor, away from the Gryffindor common room.

“No, I’m not – If you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit busy at the moment.” He really didn’t mean to snap, and his voice was sharp and terse, and he immediately regretted it, especially after he caught wind of Violet’s raised eyebrow. He muttered, “Sorry.”

They had reached a set of stairs and had now fallen into an uncomfortable silence on Harry’s part. Violet turned slightly to Harry and said, “I went and spoke to Petunia the other day.”

This time it was Harry who turned to her with the raised eyebrow, “What? Why?”

Violet shrugged, “Just felt like it.”

Harry looked at her hesitantly, “How did it go?”

Snorting a bit, Violet said dryly, “Awfully.” That was an understatement if she had ever heard one.

He winced a bit; he wasn’t really sure whether she would mind him prying. He decided against it; he was already on strike one with Violet and they had only been speaking for no more than ten minutes. He said, instead, “What was it that you had to show Dumbledore?”

“I went and somehow managed to get Slughorn’s memory last night, granted I did force myself into his house, but ah well,” explained Violet, they passed a couple Ravenclaws, who only looked at Violet and Harry before turning their gazes; it seemed that the Hogwarts students just accepted that Harry Potter’s Auror aunt came and visited him sometimes.

“That’s brilliant! What did the memory say? – show? – play?” finished Harry uncertainly.

Violet laughed a little, before looking around to make sure no one could listen in, when she was sure no one was there, she said, “That Voldemort – Tom Riddle – same difference, really – intended to make seven and Dumbledore thinks he succeeded.”

“ _Seven,”_ proclaimed Harry in disbelief, “ _Seven._ That – surely you can’t do that – there has to be some kind of limit on how many times you can – God, _seven_.”

Despite the situation and the topic, they were talking about, Violet couldn’t help the scoff of amusement escaping her lips, “You’re turning into a right old lady, y’know, bristling and baffling.”

Harry gave a side-long look at Violet and had nothing but a pure look of mischief in his eyes, when he said, “I’d rather be an old lady than a sister to Aunt Petunia.”

Violet’s mouth fell open in shock, “You little –,”

“Family bonding time?” drawled a voice, curtailing Violet from her shock.

Both of their heads jerked in the direction of the voice, and the both of them came face to face with none other than Severus Snape, in all his greasy form. Violet raised an eyebrow uninterestedly and regarded Snape with absolutely no regard at all.

“Something like that,” replied Violet airily.

The two made eye contact and Snape sneered at her, which, surprisingly, had never happened before. Snape had always ignored her, and Violet was almost curious to see what would happen. Alas, curiosity killed the cat.

She gave Snape a mild look and Snape’s black eyes darted to assess Harry, not so curiously and all too used to Snape’s hatred of him, Harry jutted his chin out a little, as if to ask what was wrong with his face. Snape sneered harder and said coldly, “How closely you resemble your father, Potter,” he looked back to Violet, “A mix of genetic immaturity and arrogance, I’m certain.”

Had he just insulted James _and_ Lily? Lily? Lily Evans, the girl who used to call him Sev? Had he just called Lily immature? Or had he called Violet immature?

Either way, she was _not_ going to engage with _Slimy Snape from Spinner’s End_ in some petty little fight _._ She was better than that. She would _not –_

“And how closely you resemble _your_ father, Snape,” she had stepped forward, in front of Harry, and in front of Snape, whose eyes glinted dangerously. She should stop, she was crossing a line – “Cruel and cold is how I remember him, _ignorant_ , most definitely. Oh, and how could I have forgotten, _prejudiced._ ”

Snape looked at Violet with a ferocity that simultaneously made Violet’s heart pulse a bit faster and made a smirk worm itself on to her face. He stepped forward and Violet matched him. He whipped his wand out from underneath his sleeve and Violet did the same.

“Violet, don’t! You’ll –,” Harry was tugging on Violet’s shoulder, but Violet was having far too much fun to listen to common sense.

“ _Shut up, Potter!_ ” snarled Snape, eyes fixed on Violet, who ginned ferally at Snape.

“What are you gonna do, Snivellus? Attack an Auror in the middle of a Hogwarts corridor?” Snape’s wand was pressed in the centre of her ribcage, directly pointing to her heart. Violet placed hers underneath Snape’s chin. Her green eyes stared directly into Snape’s black ones, “You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed.

“You are an immature swine, you always have been -,”

Violet let out a harsh laugh, “Me? An immature swine? You’re not seriously comparing me to my five, six, seven-year-old self, are you?”

“Strutting about the place as if you owned it -,”

“What? Spinner’s End? Trust me, Snape, I wouldn’t want to own that shithole even if you handed it to me on a plate.”

“…Just like Potter and Black -,”

“Just like Lily, too?” The two were so close together Harry was genuinely terrified they would start duelling in the middle of the hallway.

The comment made Snape stop, an unreadable expression came on to his face, eyes glinting dangerously, Violet kept digging, “She married him. Lily married James. Married him, had a baby with him, made Sirius godfather. She chose to do that, Snape, and there was nothing you could do about it.” Snape had his wand pushing so hard on Violet’s chest that she could feel it burning and she could feel the indent of his wand in her skin.

She had crossed the line long ago, she should have stopped, it was immature of her to be egging him on, but she just couldn’t help it, “I’ll bet it hurt, didn’t it? How many times had James hexed you in the corridor? Called you Snivellus? How many pranks? How many times had Lily told you ‘Potter is vile’ and ‘arrogant’ and that she ‘wouldn’t want to go near him with a ten-foot pole’? And then she _fell in love with him_ -,”

The irregular clanking of metal on stone popped the bubble of pure animosity and disgust with each other. Moody hobbled in, artificial eye spinning whirring like mad, “Snape! Not thinking of attacking an Auror in the middle of Hogwarts, are you?”

Snape ran his eyes over Moody, and stepped back from Violet, who had also stepped back and was glaring at Snape with nothing but hatred. Snape sneered, but said silkily, “Not at all, Moody.”

Moody ignored him and looked at Violet, “Alright, Evans?”

Ignoring the burning in her chest, from Snape’s wand, she grinned lazily at Moody, “Not bad, you? How’s teaching treating you?”

He grumbled at her, “Taught you for three years, didn’t I? Had enough cheek to last me a lifetime, bunch o’ school kids can’t compare.”

Sloping an arm around Harry, who was looking at her like she had just gone mad, she carried the lazy grin as her departing farewell to Snape, “Well, I think we’ll be off, you know, family bonding time and all that crap.” She gave Snape one last look and grinned at him.

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

* * *

“Didn’t realise you hated Snape _that much_ ,” commented Harry lightly as they made their way farther and farther away from Snape and Moody. Harry wouldn’t lie, he had found it enjoyable, seeing Violet tear Snape apart, but he also wouldn’t lie and say that he hadn’t been surprised at Violet’s outburst.

Violet smirked a bit, and promptly ignored the slightly settled feeling of guilt in her stomach, “I’ve been wanting to do that for years now. I don’t hate him though, well, maybe I do, just a little bit. I don’t know, he used to really grate on my nerves as a child, when Lily and him would do whatever they did, and then when he taught me for NEWTs, just pissed me off _all of the time_.” The two of them carried on walking, ignoring the passing students, “And then, not to mention what he does to you and Neville.”

“Neville?” inquired Harry surprised.

Violet looked confused for a moment, before she realised that Harry didn’t even _know_. How had she forgotten to tell him that? She said as much, “I – god, how have I not told you this yet? – Neville’s mum, Alice, is your godmother.”

“What?” exclaimed Harry, “I – why haven’t you told me? – why hasn’t she -?” Harry wasn’t entirely sure how to word the last part of the question, but it didn’t matter because Violet knew what he meant all the same.

“Has Neville never told you?” asked Violet slowly.

“Told me what?”

“Lily was Neville’s godmother – just – I don’t know if he’d want me to tell you – just start with that and ask. If he doesn’t want to give you an answer, just leave it,” Violet said much to Harry’s annoyance, but, nevertheless, he understood, and he respected Neville’s wishes. And then, much to Harry’s surprise, Violet announced, “I write to Neville and he writes back.”

“What? Really?”

“Mm-hmm, not often, just a couple times a year, to see how he’s doing and that. Give him a birthday present. He was born a day before you, you know.” Harry hadn’t known. Violet gave Harry a side-long glance and then hid a mischievous smile, “I also write to Draco Malfoy.”

Harry had never turned his head so fast in his life, “What? You’re kidding, right? You’ve got to be joking, you don’t write to _Malfoy_!” Hearing Violet’s laugh made him realise that Violet was indeed both kidding and joking, and he scowled at her, “Don’t _do that_ – I nearly had a heart attack – Merlin, _Malfoy_ ,” exclaimed Harry dramatically.

“Anyways,” started Violet. The two of them had reached the Entrance Hall and lead themselves outside, fresh December air hitting them like shards in the face, “about these Horcruxes then, I told Sirius and Remus, by the way, a few weeks ago.”

“Oh, I – what were their reactions?” asked Harry, looking at Violet seriously.

“Erm -,” To be honest, she couldn’t really remember, it had been so long ago, before her – catch up – with Petunia, “They sort of had the same reaction as you and me; shock, I guess, at realising the genuine severity of it all, and then determination, you know, to get rid of them.”

Harry stuffed his fists in his pockets, nodding his head with the new information, “What did Dumbledore say?”

“Not much,” said Violet truthfully, “but he did say that he wants a joint conversation between the three of us. I’m supposing that he’ll give his own verdict then.”

“Really? When did he say we’re gonna have it?” asked Harry. They were wading their way across the slightly wet grass.

Violet laughed a little, “Didn’t say anything, you know how he is. But I think he’ll set a date at some point soon and then…”

“We’ll find these Horcruxes,” said Harry with such fierce determination that Violet felt a smile wriggle itself on to her face.

She bowed her head to hide it, “We’ll find these Horcruxes.”

* * *

December and January flew by, and Harry’s second task had come around quicker than any of them had expected. He had assured them that he knew what he had to do, said that Cedric Diggory had pointed him in the right direction with the egg, returning the favour from when Harry told him about the dragon.

It had been the first Christmas Violet had celebrated without Harry in three years, but it had been the first Christmas in fourteen years that Violet had celebrated with Remus and Sirius. Granted, they hadn’t really celebrated as such, but they had just – Violet couldn’t really explain it – they had just been together, and that had been more than enough.

Violet had also done the unthinkable, although immensely overdue and bought her other nephew, Dudley a Christmas present. She had delivered it in person and had jarringly braced herself to see Petunia again, but it had all been for nothing because she hadn’t even been there –

_She knocked on the familiar door of 4. Privet Drive, with halted breath and present in hand. The door creaked open ajar and Violet could see a pair of watery blue eyes peering out at her. The car wasn’t there, and Violet had assumed they had all been out, and had just knocked on the door for the sheer hell of it, but she had been wrong._

_The door opening widened, and Dudley Dursley came into view._

_Violet’s first and, perhaps most obvious, thought was that Dudley was_ massive _, even bigger than Violet remembered and that was saying something. She pushed away the thought. Violet’s second thought was that she realised she had no idea how to speak to her other nephew._

_“Dudley, right?” asked Violet with a large sense of trepidation._

_“Er- yeah – Aunt Violet?” questioned Dudley, as he now opened the door wide, the night making it hard to see properly._

_Violet didn’t even have the heart to tell him that he didn’t need to call her ‘Aunt Violet’; this wasn’t Harry, she had no control over how Petunia and Vernon chose to raise their child, “I – yeah – is your mum in?”_

_“No – er – she and Dad have gone out for dinner…” an uncomfortable silence fell over them. Dudley looked uncomfortable, “Would you – er – like me to tell her you were here?”_

_“No!” Violet said it with such force that she shocked Dudley, and then had to retreat on her words, “No, no, I – er – don’t think she’d – er – be happy with me – I don’t think she’d want to know, anyways, I just wanted to give you a present, you know, for Christmas.”_

_She held out the present in mid-air, wrapping and all._

_He took it hesitantly and Violet suddenly blurted, “It’s not magical or anything, I don’t – I wouldn’t do that – It’s just a… a normal present.”_

_“Er – thanks, I guess,” said Dudley uncertainly, he looked almost as awkward as Violet felt._

_“No problem,” she shoved her hands in her coat pocket, and smiled a little, “I’ll see you, yeah?” Even if your mum hates me, added Violet in her head._

_“Yeah, sure – thanks.”_

Sirius had made plans to go meet Harry in Hogsmeade. He had also gotten his motorbike back from Hagrid, and Violet didn’t think she had ever seen someone look so ecstatic over a _locomotive._ He had taken it for a test drive for miles around the countryside, where Violet lived, and he had been so long, Violet thought he had gotten lost.

He hadn’t.

He was just a sucker for his motorbike.

And apparently (Violet wasn’t very knowledgeable about these things) there was much space for improvement, and he had started developing ideas on how to incorporate solid Muggle engineering and magic already.

Violet thought he was ridiculous. As did Remus.

The full moon had been the previous day and Remus had lost his job. Which meant that Violet and Sirius were doing their best to try and cheer him up, whilst trying to keep their nerves at bay and their eyes on the mirror that would give them the comfort of knowing whether Harry was alive or not.

It was a Saturday and Violet was supposed to be running over a case file that she was working on, but it was proving harder than it should have been. She stared at Sirius and Remus and then at the clock and then at the mirror, “He’ll be fine. He’s – he’s not an idiot. He’ll be fine.”

“He’s half James though,” reasoned Sirius, “That’s a terrible half to be.”

Remus and Violet snorted at the remark, and Violet added, “He’s a fair player too, he’ll probably end up, I don’t know, helping all the other people on his way.”

Remus hummed, “It’s not really the competition to be playing fair in, really, is it?”

Neither of them could argue with that.

Violet breathed in a shaky breath, “He’s half Lily though, does that make it better?”

Sirius huffed a laugh, “It’s a better half than James’, anyway. How would Lily have gotten through a Triwizard Tournament?”

“Probably just would’ve,” Violet laughed a little louder, “charmed her way through. One smile at the dragon and it would’ve been gone.”

They all laughed at the thought, and Remus added through laughs, “Either that, or she would have put her game face on and terrified the dragon so much that it cowered away.”

Laughing again, Violet felt some of the nerves dissipate, “He’ll be fine,” repeated Violet, “He’ll be fine.”

Moments after, the mirror vibrated and Violet had never answered a call quicker, “Harry?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Harry’s face was in the mirror, he looked exhausted and Violet could feel the waves of relief rolling over him, but he was there, well and alive. Violet brought the mirror so that it was between the three adults.

“How did it go?” asked Violet, running her eyes furiously over Harry’s face, in search of death-defying injuries.

Harry replied, “I came last, or no, third, Fleur came out first, but without her sister.”

Violet was quick to answer, “That’s fine, you’re not dead, that’s the most important thing.”

“Yeah,” said Harry strangely.

Sirius looked at him suspiciously, “What place are you in then?”

“I – er -,” Harry grinned sheepishly, “first, tied with Cedric, because I – er – took Fleur’s sister as well, because I -,”

Remus cut in dryly, “Thought they were serious when they said they would be left there to die?”

Harry’s cheeks tinted pink, “Er – yeah.”

Violet snorted, “I told you, said he would do something like that, something ridiculous. And so, what, they gave you extra points for being chivalrous or something?”

Cheeks going a darker red, Harry said, “Er – yeah – I think it was something to do with moral fibre.”

All three adults burst out laughing and Harry felt his face going darker, Sirius, who was lounging casually with his arms folded, “Alright, Mr. Moral Fibre, at least you got there in the end. Merlin, only you, Harry, could get points for _moral fibre_.”

“The egg seemed really serious though,” said Harry, who was also laughing at himself. It only made the three laugh harder.

* * *

“Crouch is still ill, how can he _still be ill?_ ” said Violet to Sirius as they were sat, later that night, Remus having gone home.

Sirius looked deep in thought, “He’s hiding something, and that incidence with Harry, when he said he saw Crouch on the map, that’s not right, and in Snape’s office as well.”

“Do you think it was actually Crouch on the map?” asked Violet rubbing her eyes furiously.

“The map never lies –,” started Sirius, but Violet interrupted.

“Yeah, I know, but just, I don’t understand. How could Crouch have been -? What was he _doing then_?”

“Looking for potions ingredients seems like a bit of a stretch, doesn’t it?” remarked Sirius, looking at Violet with a hint of a smile on his face.

“You never know, Crouch might be a potions fanatic,” Violet looked back at Sirius and half grinned and half smirked at him.

Sirius cocked an eyebrow at her, “He seems more like a Transfiguration person, if I’m honest.”

“Nah, you’ve never been in a meeting with him. One hundred percent a Potions guy, he’s got the arrogance for it,” said Violet with that half smirk still on her face.

“I’m sure,” replied Sirius, with that devil-may-care attitude that Violet recognised from when the both of them had been younger, and Violet suddenly found herself to be feeling flustered.

It was as though, she had just been struck in the face, with the fact of how bloody attractive Sirius looked. His shirt was rolled up at his arms and his – he just looked really fucking attractive and Violet had never felt that before, or no, she had, just never with _Sirius_.

Really fucking fit.

Violet forced herself to push it away, and blamed it on hormones, she was due in a couple days. That was it. That was all it was.

She stood up quite abruptly, “D’you want tea?”

“Only if you’re making.”

That was all it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've deleted the first two chapters and intend to sort out the next three, even if I said I wasn't going to make a habit out of editing, because I know how annoying it can be to find that someone's gone and changed the entire story overnight and expects you to follow. But they were/are really bothering me, in that, the writing is typically shite. 
> 
> I just want to know, from an outside perspective, if it makes sense not to start with Violet picking Harry up from the Dursley's, as in, is it understandable? Obviously, it makes sense to me because I'm literally think about it all the time, so if you could just let me know, that would be much appreciated.
> 
> Thanks :)


	12. Chapter 12

**15:02 – 24 th June 1995**

Violet had that uncomfortable settlement of nerves in her stomach. It was the day of the third task. The last one, and after that Harry would be free. It was the last one. If anything, this task was perhaps the easiest one, it was just a maze, filled with obstacles, but no dragons and no chance of drowning. However, there was something wrong.

Violet could feel it, in her very bones, a feeling of anticipation for something going horribly, horribly wrong.

Someone had put Harry’s name into the Goblet of Fire to put him in harm’s way, but here he was. Alive and well. Sirius and her and Remus had all agreed that harm’s way was not the tasks, no, it was something bigger, much bigger.

She wouldn’t lie and say that over the past year she had not considered grabbing Harry and taking him well out of Hogwarts and into the mountains of Scandinavia or something. Far, far, far away. Where no Voldemort or no mad Death Eaters or no Horcruxes could make any attempt to do Harry in.

But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She shouldn’t.

There was so much here that needed fixing, and if not them, then who? Who would actually try? No one. No one at all.

So, here she was, allowing Harry, as his legal guardian, to walk headlong into more danger and more trouble and perhaps his deathbed. She swallowed thickly at the thought. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She shouldn’t.

Crouch had gone missing, in other words, he was dead. He had been murdered; Violet could tell. There was no other possible scenario. He had practically fallen into Hogwarts hallucinating, and according to Harry, looking every part of insane, and then he had just magically just disappeared. No. He had been murdered, because he knew something, what, Violet didn’t know, but he had known something, and it had died with him.

It led them back to the question of who was behind it all. They had all decided that it was the same person. But they were still no closer to guessing than before.

Harry had had another dream and Dumbledore had told him that nothing that Violet hadn’t already told him. That he should keep his eyes open and that something was going to happen, something big. The connection between Harry and Voldemort had given Violet something to think about other than the tournament.

To be completely honest, she didn’t understand. Didn’t understand how Harry could look into Voldemort’s mind with no intent behind it at all. And yet, there was something there, that something that Violet didn’t understand it was there and it was haunting her.

They were leaving in half an hour, leaving because family members could watch the final task, they were allowed to spectate and Violet was not going to pass that chance up, not when she had the feeling that something was going to go terribly, terrible wrong.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror of her bathroom: she looked positively grim.

* * *

**19:12 – 24 th June 1995**

“How are you feeling?” It was a pretty stupid question to ask her nephew, but she asked it anyway. Sirius was stood next to her, with a similar grim expression on his face. It was safe to say, that all of them would be more than pleased when all this was over, even if – even if over meant something worse.

“Nervous,” admitted Harry, who also had a grim expression on his face, he looked pale.

Sirius shook his head, “That’s alright, I would be more worried if you weren’t.”

Harry said nothing in reply, not because he didn’t want to reply, but more because he didn’t think he would be able to speak without being sick. All three of them fell into a silence, they were out in the grounds of the castle, by the lake. The summer evening was calm and bright, even though it felt like a storm was brewing.

Violet released a shaky breath and looked across the lake, “If you feel like you’re in danger, like _proper danger_ , get out, send up the sparks. Don’t – don’t carry on for glory’s sake, please. I can’t – you – Harry, do you understand?”

She turned and looked directly at Harry, and Harry had never had such an intense look directed at him. He nodded, “Yeah -,”

Violet shook her head, her voice came out harsh and hoarse, “Swear it – swear to me – swear it to me Harry, that you won’t hesitate, not for a second, to get yourself out of danger. Swear it.”

Harry looked back at Violet and nodded again, “I swear on my life. I don’t care about winning or anything -,”

“We know, Harry,” cut in Sirius, as grave as Violet had been, “We know you don’t, it’s just that we also know someone put you name in the cup to harm you. Nothing has been done yet, their time runs out tonight. You have to _understand_ -,”

Violet also cut in, “That to us, you are the single handed most important person in the world.” Her words created a resounding silence and Violet carried on, “What you are to the both of us is – is – it’s impossible to put into words. _If we lost you_ -,”

Here, she was cut of by Harry practically colliding with her, and for a moment, for a second in time, she just stopped and wrapped her arms around Harry’s body and held him tighter than she had ever held anything in her life.

When they broke apart, Violet saw Harry quickly turning his face to wipe his eyes, Violet didn’t comment on it. She turned to see Sirius staring at them with a small smile on his face, she, quite ridiculously, felt an urge to hug him too, but now wasn’t the time, they had to get to the Quidditch pitch before the task started.

Sirius clasped a hand on Harry’s shoulder and muttered, “You’re more capable than you think, and we don’t want to scare you, but as Violet said, you mean the world to us.”

Harry smiled crookedly at Sirius, “Thank you.”

The two words conveyed more meaning than they seemed to, and the three of them stood staring at each other for longer than they should have.

Violet had to try and calm herself; Sirius had been right; Harry was more capable than he thought. She just hoped it was enough.

* * *

**22:18 – 24 th June 1995**

“Where are they?” asked Violet, checking her watch for what felt like the hundredth time, “It’s been well over two hours, they should be back by now.”

Sirius said nothing, but then he looked over at Violet and frowned. His eyes caught sight of her hands: they were shaking. He grabbed them and gave a comforting squeeze, Violet looked at him curiously, so he said, “He’ll be fine, I promise.”

He couldn’t promise and the both of them new it, but Violet appreciated it nonetheless, she whispered back a, “Thank you.” Just as Harry had done before. He just smiled that small smile of his and kept a grip on her hand.

* * *

**23:06 – 24 th June 1995**

By this point, Violet felt as though she were going to be sick. She had taken herself out of the stand to stand up and watch, because standing up made her feel as if she were doing something more proactive. Sirius had followed her, who also by this point, was nervous himself.

They were by the sides of the wooden structure and Violet had her head rested against it, willing herself not to be sick.

Remus was surely either asleep, recovering from last night’s full moon, or sat awake waiting for the call from them telling him that Harry hadn’t died, and that he was all right.

It was then that a commotion coming from the crowd put both Sirius and Violet on high alert. There was cheering. And then there was screaming. They stared at each other, and moved together to the front of the pitch, striding faster than either had ever done before.

Violet caught sight of Harry within less than a second, his red and gold shirt starkly contrasting the green grass. Her heart stopped and her stomach was twisting and writhing. She and Sirius ran over and when Violet saw Cedric Diggory lying motionless on the floor, with Harry lying next to him, her stomach fell to the floor.

The both of them were the first to reach Harry and Violet could see Dumbledore and some other people hurrying over too.

Violet crouched down next to Harry, Sirius crouched next to her, “Harry, Harry, it’s just me -,”

Harry grasped on to the collar of her jumper and pulled it quite viciously, “He’s back – Voldemort – he’s back.”

Dumbledore had made his way over to Harry as well, and Harry had sat up, and was looking at Dumbledore with haunted eyes, “Professor, he’s back – Cedric – Cedric -,” he swivelled around and saw Cedric’s dead body, which was now surrounded by the Minister and Amos Diggory, the latter who was giving heart wrenching sobs and cries over his son. The audience was in chaos, with Ministry officials trying to calm everyone, but Violet didn’t take her eyes off Harry. Harry carried on, eyes darting about unseeingly, “He asked me to bring his body back – I couldn’t leave him – not there – not with him -,”

Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on Harry, and turned to Sirius and Violet with the most serious expression on his face that Violet had ever seen, “If you could take Harry up to my office, while I try and help Cedric’s parents. I will be there as soon as I can.”

Both Violet and Sirius did not hesitate before agreeing, Dumbledore thanked them even if he had nothing to thank them for. Violet, still crouched, asked Harry gently if he could stand up. Exhausted, but willing, Harry nodded his head and with the help of both of them, he managed to stand up on shaky legs.

His arm was bleeding, and he was shaking, shaking like he had been place under the Cruciatus Curse, Violet recognised the signs. Harry was half leaning on Sirius half managing to carry his weight; Sirius didn’t seem to mind.

They had managed to make it to middle of the grounds where the chaos was not, however in their silence, Violet barely had a chance to see the curse flying towards the three of them. Reacting solely on instinct, Violet threw her weight onto Harry and Sirius, pushing them all to the ground. The curse missed them by a hair’s width and Violet had her wand out and pointing in the direction of where the curse had come from.

She sent a random curse back and when she got up to see the caster, she almost fell back with surprise, “Moody?” Sirius also had his wand out and Harry was doing his best to regain his bearings. Violet stepped forward, just to make sure she wasn’t seeing things, “What are you -?”

Before she could finish, Moody sent another curse at her, with a demonic laugh. Sirius and Violet both, instinctually, brought their wands up and cast a dual protection charm. The curse bounced off and Moody sent another curse and another and another.

“Moody, have you gone mad? What the fuck are you playing at?” shouted Violet dodging the deadly curses and sending ones of her own back. Sirius doing the same.

Sirius, who was standing next to Violet, spoke firmly, “That’s not Moody.” His voice was grave as he fought Moody with vigour.

Moody cackled, so unlike anything Violet had ever heard before, “Azkaban didn’t break you, did it, Black?” Violet could see the mad grin on his face, “You and I are similar in that respect.”

Something must have clicked in Sirius’ brain, something that Violet didn’t understand. Sirius stared at Moody, or not-Moody and questioned, “Crouch?” It was as though everything stopped for that moment in time. No one moved an inch, and it gave Violet time to realise what Sirius was talking about.

Crouch Jr.

The ‘dead’ son of Barty Crouch Sr.

“Oh my God,” whispered Violet faintly, that would explain why Harry had seen Barty Crouch on the Map, it explained so much, even if they didn’t understand how it was possible.

As quickly as Crouch had stopped, he started again, but there was only so far a person could go, as one against two. Two skilled duellists as well.

Violet dodged a curse and retorted with an _Incarcerous_. Sirius had done the same and the joint spell had done it. Crouch had been thrown back with the grunt, ropes wrapping tightly around his body. Quickly, Violet brought her wand up again and cast an _Expelliarmus,_ whilst Sirius cast a _Stupefy._ Crouch slumped further back on the ground and Violet caught his wand.

They both turned to look back to Harry, who was attempting to stand again on his sprained ankle. As if through telepathy, Violet and Sirius made a quick glance at each other and knew they were thinking the same thing.

Violet jogged back over to Harry, while Sirius made his own way to Crouch.

“Harry,” Violet spoke softly, Harry peered up at her with those haunted eyes from before; he was still shaking, “You need to get to Dumbledore’s office.”

Harry nodded faintly, and when he was leaning on Violet, as the two of them made their way across the grounds, up towards the castle, with Sirius in front along with the floating unconscious body of Crouch Jr. As they were walking, Harry said, “I saw them.”

Violet glanced at him, “Saw who?”

“My parents,” answered Harry faintly. Violet didn’t even have the heart to ask what he had meant.

* * *

**23:48 – 24 th June 1995**

All four of them had made it to Dumbledore’s office and Violet had sat Harry down in the chair opposite Dumbledore’s desk, and Sirius had bound Crouch once more, just to be sure, and had set him down on the floor. The Polyjuice Potion had worn out, meaning they were all staring at the gaunt face of Barty Crouch Jr.

Harry broke the silence, and asked a very sensible question, “If that’s not Moody, where is the actual Moody?”

Sirius grimaced and turned to face Harry, “No idea,” he scoffed a laugh, although he found nothing particularly funny, “Probably locked in some cage somewhere.”

Violet, who had been fixing Harry’s sprained ankle, looked at directly up at Harry, “Would you mind telling us what happened?”

Looking down at his aunt, Harry shook his head, but before he could start on what had happened, Dumbledore burst into the office, McGonagall and Snape following him. All of them reacted to the tied up, unconscious man on the floor, with varying levels of shock, that, in any other circumstance, would have been fairly amusing.

Dumbledore swept his eyes over them all, and addressed Snape and McGonagall accordingly, “Minerva, if you would take Mr. Crouch to the Defence Against the Dark Arts office, and keep him there until I have finished talking with Harry, Violet and Sirius, after which I will join you. Severus, if you would retrieve the Minister and a phial of Veritaserum, before also joining Minerva in the Defence Against the Dark Arts office.”

The two professors agreed readily and left immediately, only with Snape giving a customary distasteful glance in Sirius’ direction, who ignored him. Dumbledore closed the door, after the two had left and swept up to his desk. On his way, he conjured up two chairs for Violet and Sirius to sit on either side of Harry.

Fawkes fluttered down on to Harry’s knee and Harry greeted him tiredly.

Dumbledore looked older than Violet had ever seen as he stared intensely at Harry, who, for the record, was still shaking, “I need to know everything that happened after you touched the portkey in the maze, Harry.”

Sirius said harshly, “Can this not wait until later? Till he’s had some rest.”

Dumbledore bowed his head forward slightly and promptly ignored Sirius, and Harry looked up. Violet released another shaky breath. Dumbledore had started speaking again but Violet wasn’t listening. She only started listening when Harry’s tired voice started once again.

* * *

**00:43 – 25 th June 1995**

Harry was asleep in the Hospital Wing, sleeping draught having been consumed, and Violet and Sirius sat next to each other, beside the bed. Violet felt exhausted even though it hadn’t been her who had duelled the newly resurrected Voldemort.

Hermione and Ron were sat also in the Hospital Wing, pale in colour and looking at their best friend with worry. Neither Violet nor Sirius had the energy to try and comfort them, because really, there wasn’t much they could say.

Violet turned to Sirius, and opened her mouth to say something, before realising that nothing was going to come out, there were no words to express what she was thinking. He seemed to understand her silence though, just as Violet understood his.

* * *

**01:52 – 25 th June 1995**

Violet’s head had been resting on Sirius’ shoulder, as exhaustion had managed to overcome her as well, when McGonagall and Fudge had come into hearing distance. Violet had never heard McGonagall sound so furious; she had never heard her shout so loudly, and as they came into the Hospital Wing; you could safely say Violet’s head was upright and ready.

Snape had been trailing the two, but he had remained silent up until this point. Sirius stood up and when Fudge asked the question of, “Where’s Dumbledore?” extraordinarily rudely, Sirius looked like he wanted to do nothing better than hurl a hex at the Minister.

“Do we look like we can see through walls?” retorted Sirius, scathingly, and Violet had to supress a tired snort. Sirius added, “Well, either way, we can’t, so if you would kindly _get out_ -,”

The door opened, stopping Sirius from finishing his sentence, and Dumbledore came sweeping in.

And Violet thought that what happened then might be a vague resemblance to the never-ending pits of fire in hell.

* * *

**02:19 – 25 th June 1995**

As the Minister stormed out of the Hospital Wing, after ever-so graciously handing Harry his winnings, Dumbledore turned to face them all.

He addressed McGonagall first, “Minerva, I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also – if she will consent to come – Madam Maxime. If you would also contact Molly and Arthur Weasley, I’m sure you know what for.” McGonagall gave a curt nod and left all without a word.

He turned to Madam Pomfrey, “Poppy, there is a House-Elf in Professor Moody’s office, who I believe is in considerable distress. Her name is Winky and I hope you should be so kind as to do what you can for her, and take her back to the kitchens, where I am sure Dobby will look after her.”

Madam Pomfrey looked surprised, but she agreed all the same.

Dumbledore then turned to look at the three remaining adults: Violet, Sirius and Snape. He regarded them all as they stared at him, knowing what was coming, “Now, I believe it is time for three in our number to recognise each other for what they are.”

The confrontation she had had with Snape all those months ago in January came to the forefront of her mind. In all honesty, she was too tired, too fed up, to even care. So, instead, she stood up next to Sirius and looked at Snape directly, “I won’t apologise, but I’ll shut up if you do.”

Snape looked at her and seemed to be refraining a sneer, Dumbledore added, “We are all on the same side of this war, you must all lay aside past differences. Time is short, so you will shake each other’s hand.”

Violet gritted her teeth slightly at being treated like a child, but she held out her hand across Harry’s bed anyway. Snape looked at her hand and shook it, or, more accurately, held it for a second before dropping it.

Sirius and Snape did the same.

Dumbledore started again, “I have work for each of you. Fudge’s attitude, although not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher – the old crowd. You can then stay at Violet’s where you have been these past few months, where I will contact you later.”

Sirius nodded, looked at Violet and Harry, before setting off, out of the Hospital Wing.

Dumbledore turned to Snape and gave him his instructions, which did hit Violet in some heartstrings as she realised the implications of Dumbledore’s words. However, she said nothing, just watched him leave the Hospital Wing with a grave expression on his face.

Finally, Dumbledore turned to Violet, he looked at her and she looked at him, many thoughts flying around each of their heads. All revolving around the same thing, “I am afraid our plans have, yet again, been placed on hold, for the time being. Nevertheless, it is more important now than ever, that we continue, so all I ask of you Violet is that you give me some time.”

Violet nodded her head, “Of course, yeah – no - I completely understand.”

Dumbledore looked at her steadily, “I am afraid, however, that you will not completely understand what I have to ask of you next.”

Violet looked at him strangely, “Er – what is it you want me to do?”

“I should like you to resign from your position as Deputy Head Auror.”

“I’m sorry – what?” asked Violet incredulously.

“Fudge has aligned himself on the side of wilful ignorance, he will ensure that the Ministry does also, and I have no doubt that he will have every intention of getting rid of those who do not align themselves with him,” expounded Dumbledore.

Violet stared at him, knowing that everything he was saying was true and well within reason, but she couldn’t help the feeling of utter sadness at knowing that everything she had ever worked for, everything she had worked so hard for, she was just about to give up. Just like that.

Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on Violet’s own hands and said, “I have a preposition for you, for other means of employment, however, there will be time for that in due course.” Violet nodded and swallowed thickly, “I am sure you will want to stay here with Harry, and so I am more than pleased to let you do so, but we are in dire need of all those who are willing to believe and more so willing to fight. When you are ready to do so, I would like you to talk to your colleagues, Nymphadora Tonks and Kingley Shacklebolt. I have no doubt that they will make excellent additions.”

Violet nodded again and sat back down, by Harry’s bed. Dumbledore looked over them all once more, before he dismissed himself.

She turned to look at Harry, and then reached over and gave him the biggest hug she had ever given anyone. She whispered in his ear, “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

“I told him to take the cup with me,” whispered Harry back.

Violet shook her head, “You didn’t know -,”

She was interrupted by a large clanking sound and the two of them broke apart to see Hermione having clamped a class jar over something on a window-sill. Hermione said, “Sorry,” and came back over to sit with Ron.

Violet turned back to Harry, and reached over to grab the sleeping draught, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Harry nodded at her and drank the potion.

He had no doubt that Violet would be there when he woke up; she always was.


	13. Chapter 13

Violet was sat on the sofa in Tonks’ flat, with Kingsley sat beside her and Tonks sat on the other chair in the living room. The place was cramped, but it suited Tonks like nothing else. The three Aurors sat in silence, as Violet deliberated where she could even begin.

“I’m handing in my resignation tomorrow,” started Violet, eyes fixed on the wall. The thought of resignation still made her stomach drop with disappointment.

She could feel the eyes on her. Tonks stared at her, and said, “But Fudge wouldn’t fire you unless you did something, I don’t know, crazy.”

Kingsley laughed deeply, and both Tonks and Violet turned to him with wondering expressions. He said, “I think you managed to build your entire career on doing something crazy.” He looked at Violet with a smile, and Violet couldn’t help the smile that wormed its way on to her face. Kingsley carried on, “You picked a fight with Scrimgeour on your first day of training, told him that if he didn’t like the way you were doing something, then he shouldn’t look.”

Tonks laughed, and added, “I remember meeting you on my first day of training, and I saw you arguing with Scrimgeour, I think it was the time you sent your patronus at a dementor. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Scrimgeour shout so loud.”

Smiling ruefully, Violet laughed slightly, feeling floods of gratitude towards them both, “Thank you, for – for everything.” What the both of them had done for Violet was more than she could ever begin to express, it was impossible to even put into words.

“Oh, shut up,” said Tonks with a roll of her eyes, “You didn’t think we would never want to see you again, did you?” Violet looked at her strangely, and she elaborated, “We’re fighting too, you numpty.”

Violet’s eyes widened, as she looked between Tonks and Kingsley, and between Kingsley and Tonks. She blinked back in shock at seeing their serious faces, “Wait – you believe -,”

“Of course, we believe -,”

“- What do you take us for?”

Kingsley and Tonks spoke at the same time, and Violet felt as though she had to take a moment to let the information sink in. She remarked softly, “Oh,” and then she laughed a bit at herself, “I didn’t – ah – well, that’s great – yeah,” she grinned a little, “Dumbledore will be pleased.”

Looking at her, with an expression of dryness and amusement, Kingsley said, “Your faith in us is certainly uplifting.”

Violet grinned a bit wider, “No – no – I just thought, I don’t know, it’s quite a big concept to get your head around, isn’t it?”

“That You-Know-Who is back?” asked Tonks bluntly, “Yeah, sure, but we’ll have to, won’t we? Otherwise we’ll die anyway.”

Violet just kept grinning, “Your mum won’t be chuffed.”

Tonks scowled at her, “She wasn’t chuffed when I told her I wanted to become an Auror, but she came around to that, so she’ll come around to this,” she looked worried for a second, “eventually.”

* * *

Violet, Sirius and Remus picked Harry up from the station, because they just thought he could do with all the support they could give him, and plus it made for quite a dramatic statement. Especially after Violet had handed in her resignation the day before; she had made the front page of the Prophet.

When they all got back to Violet’s and Remus had put the kettle on, Harry had looked more serious and older than Violet had ever seen him. He had stared at them all, and said, much to all of their surprise, “I want to learn how to duel properly. I think – I need to get better.”

Sirius had stood up and clapped his hands together, “Let’s start now then.”

Harry had grinned at him and Violet also stood up and nodded at Harry, “Better get your wand out.”

Remus had switched off the kettle, and stared at them all, “Well, don’t just stand there,” he shooed his hands, “duelling doesn’t practise by itself.”

They practised duelling until it was dark, and all of their stomachs were rumbling. Harry had gotten frustrated at some points, somewhere between the eleventh and fifteenth time he had lost his wand and been knocked to the ground.

Violet had just pulled him off the ground for the eleventh twelfth thirteenth time and told him that, “There are more important things to gain from losing than disappointment.”

Harry had stood up each time, and had still lost, but Violet, Sirius and Remus had just pulled him up again. A silent resolve had been created between the four of them: they were going to keep going until Harry was ready, on all fronts.

Harry was as grateful as they came.

* * *

Two days later, Violet received a phone call. An expected phone call, that shouldn’t have shocked her, but it did. More than she had wanted it to, but it had.

When the phone had been hung up, she called Petunia without hesitation, because she had shit coping mechanisms and because it was _right._

Sirius, Harry and Remus were outside again, duelling, and Violet was inside trying her bloody hardest not to cry. She twisted the dials to the correlating numbers, and she held the phone to her ear. Squashing down distinct feelings of déjà vu, she listened patiently as the phone rang, rang, and rang.

_“Hello, Petunia Dursley speaking,” Petunia’s voice rang through the phone._

Heart hammering less than it had done all those months ago, Violet spoke calmly, ignoring the temptation to just burst into tears, “Grandma’s dead.” The line crackled and Violet could hear Petunia’s shallow breathing, Violet carried on regardless – she was not giving herself a chance to be hurt like she had been last time, no, never again, “I’m going to sort out the will later today. I’ll have to come round to sort financial stuff with you,” Violet’s breathing was surprisingly steady, “She always said she wanted to be cremated, so that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to do it today - later on - in a couple of hours.”

It was rather a lot to unpack, but then being told Petunia hated her had been something larger for Violet to unpack.

_“When will you be coming round?” asked Petunia with an equally steady voice._

Violet looked at the clock on her living room wall, and replied, “After I’ve done it, so, say, about three-ish?”

_“Vernon gets home at six O’clock every day,” answered Petunia, her voice cracking with the line._

Violet frowned, “I’ll probably be gone by then,” she said cautiously. Her eyes still on the clock as it ticked ticked ticked, she said quickly, “Right, well, I’ll knock on the door, when I’m outside. Bye.”

And she hung up the phone.

* * *

A couple hours later, Violet was subconsciously nodding her head along with whatever the nurse was saying, something about the procedure before burial or cremation. She had plans to do it by herself, you know, with magic, she didn’t need some funeral director’s plan.

They were in her grandmother’s room, where her grandma now lay peacefully, no trace of forgotten words or memories, no deeply creased frowns in her forehead from confusion, just there. Unbreathing and unthinking, but just there.

When the woman had finally, finally finished, Violet dismissed her with the note that they needn’t worry and that she would sort everything out by herself, with her sister.

The woman asked if she was sure, and Violet told her that she had everything under perfect control and that she was eternally grateful for everything the woman had done for her grandmother.

And that was that.

(no, it wasn’t)

Violet’s plan from since whenever she could remember had been to sort out her grandmother’s funeral by herself, and so that was what she did. She placed a memory charm over the building, and summoned Elizabeth Evans’ track records; it was becoming a rather recurring circumstance, but Violet didn’t care.

She locked the door, placed a notice-me-not charm on it, and looked around the room once. Her hand then moved in an upwards flick motion, and all the bits and bobs that her grandmother had owned began to fall into a neat pile in the middle of the room.

Staring at the pile and then looking back to her grandmother, Violet waved her wand again, vanishing the pile of collected objects.

She went over to the bed, where a paper cover had been drawn over her grandmother’s body and sat down. She lifted the cover and willed herself not to cry. She stared at the old, withered face, before she brought her wand up and cast a quick statis charm. She then grabbed hold of all legal documentation and apparated away.

They landed by the lake Violet had ended up by when she had lost control. It was quiet and peaceful, much like her grandmother, and in much contrast to the life she was leading, but it was quiet and peaceful and that’s all that mattered.

Violet looked around the forest landscape, and began to collect sticks, bark and bits of leaves. She then cut down a few heavier, thicker branches and lay them in a pile along with the sticks, bark and bits of leaves. Her breathing was surprisingly steady.

Laying the branches, sticks, bark, and bits of leaves in a sort of bed-like structure, Violet felt herself strangely at peace. As if strangely, there was no one in the world apart from her.

Violet placed Elizabeth gently on the bed of branches, sticks, bark, and bits of leaves, and crouched back. She stared and she stared, and she stared, until her eyes began to burn, and her eyelids closed as response.

She opened her eyes and looked again.

_Incendio._

Violet stared and stared and stared, as her grandmother burned and burned and burned.

* * *

Violet had knocked on the door when she had reached outside the godforsaken house, and she had been greeted cheerily by Petunia. Violet snorted slightly at her own thoughts; the day Petunia wore anything other than a taught frown when Violet was nearby was the day that Sirius started knitting.

She stepped into number four Privet Drive and looked at Petunia, “No need to look so happy to see me,” she commented dryly, ignoring the thumping of her heart.

Petunia pursed her lips and shut the door behind Violet, “We can sit in the kitchen.” She led the way into the kitchen, as if she were showing Violet about a mansion. Although, Violet had to give it to Petunia, her house was certainly very clean.

They sat down at the kitchen table and Violet put the documents down. She hadn’t been offered a drink, but Violet didn’t mind (yes, she did), she would have said no anyway. In fact, Violet was just keen on getting this done and dusted.

Violet looked around the kitchen for a moment, and then asked, “Dudley?”

Petunia looked at her strangely, “Out with his friends.”

“Ah, right,” she looked at her sister, “Er – we’ll need a pen.”

Petunia got a pen.

Fishing out her grandmother’s will from the pile of paperwork, Violet set it in front of Petunia, “She left a third of everything to us each.”

“There are only two of us,” said Petunia slowly. Her eyes grazing over the paper in front of her.

“Exactly,” nodded Violet. She took the pen and tapped the part of the will that was addressed to Lily Evans Potter, “I never had the heart to tell her, not even when there was a possibility that she recognised me.” She looked at Petunia for a moment, before adding, “We can split it, if you want?”

It was then that Petunia well and truly shocked Violet. All because she looked Violet dead on in the eyes, and said, “It was meant for her, it should go to the boy – Harry.”

And for some reason, Violet realised that might have been the first time she had ever said Harry’s name. Violet took in a deep breath and looked back at her sister, “If your sure?” When Petunia gave a sharp jerk of her head, Violet carried on, “Alright then, that’ll make it easier - legally wise.”

“You mean you were going to do it illegally?” asked Petunia in an unidentifiable tone.

Violet shrugged as she fished out some more paperwork from the pile, “Not technically.” There were actually no Muggle laws forbidding tampering with magic, obviously, so did that make it illegal? Not technically.

Petunia stared at her and looked as though she were about to say something, before she must have thought better of it. Violet ignored her and placed the papers in front of Petunia, “You’ll need to fill in your bank details,” she pointed to the section, “there. Is your account shared with Vernon, or do you have your own?”

“Shared with my husband,” replied Petunia defensively.

Violet looked at her with that sisterly-look to show that she knew far better than that; she wasn’t here to bullshit, “Would you rather set up an account of your own for the money, or would you like to place it all in mine and then you can have free reign over your share?”

“You have a – a normal bank account?” queried Petunia, as if it were the most revolutionary piece of information in the world.

“A couple, yes,” Violet said, much to her sister’s surprise, and she refrained from adding that Wizarding to Muggle rates were well endowed in her favour. Instead, she asked again, “Would you rather -,”

But she was interrupted by Petunia, saying hastily, “I’ll set up an account for myself.”

Violet stared for a moment, “Okay, right,” she rubbed her forehead, “Would you like to do it now, with me, or later, by yourself?”

This question proved much more difficult to answer than Petunia and Violet had expected. Violet looked at the clock, it was nearing four O’clock, she looked back at Petunia, “I can come back another day and we can do it then, if you’d like?”

“I think,” started Petunia slowly, “that would be a good idea.”

Breathing in deeply again, Violet exhaled through her nose, _why was this so bloody difficult?_ “Okay, I might be a bit busy over the next few weeks,” you know, Dark Lords resurrecting and all that, “so, if you just phone me, I’ll – er – hopefully, be able to sort something out.”

Petunia blinked and stared at her suspiciously, and Violet started putting the paper back into its pile. Petunia suddenly blurted, “I don’t have your phone number.”

Violet blinked, much like Petunia just had, “Oh, right – yeah, of course – erm – d’you have a scrap bit of paper?”

Petunia had a scrap bit of paper.

And Violet quickly scribbled down her phone number and handed it back to her sister. She deliberated, very quickly, whether to tell Petunia about Voldemort being back, but then quickly decided against it, as she figured Petunia probably didn’t want to listen.

So, instead of dithering any longer (things to do, nephews to look after), Violet stood up and picked up the papers with her. She glanced at Petunia, who was staring at her, “Right – er – well, I should probably get going, I – er – yeah, see you.”

And then she left, with her heart beating a bit faster than she had wanted it to.

* * *

As she walked through her wards at a steady pace, she immediately noticed the lack of duelling in the field, on which she lived. She continued to walk with her thoughts jumbled all over the place, ranging from the financial documents in her hand, to her increasingly aggravating sister, to the thumping headache she could feel brewing just nicely.

She tapped her wand on the front door, unlocking it, and stepped inside. She paused. There was a certain voice coming from her living room, not uncommon, given that she basically lived with three other people, but there was the recognisable voice in the living room.

The recognisable voice that did not belong to any person who lived in her house.

Albus bloody Dumbledore was in her bloody house.

More problems that she would have to deal with, problems that she would rather leave for another day, month, year, time. She took a deep breath and closed the door.

She slipped off her shoes and made her way into the living room, because, funnily enough, this was her house, her house that she paid for. She mentally shook her head at herself, _why was she making everything about money?_

“Hello,” greeted Violet from the doorway, a little dryly, as all heads turned to her. She went across the room and put the stack of papers on the table next to the telephone and looked back at everyone else.

Dumbledore greeted her, “Violet,” she smiled tiredly at him, as she sat down next to Remus on the sofa, “I am afraid I have intruded in on your house.”

Violet waved him away, “I intrude on yours all the time.” She rubbed her eyes furiously and exhaled heavily. She ignored Sirius’ gaze on her.

Dumbledore smiled back at her, although Violet could tell his was a tired one as well, “We shall call it even then.” He paused and Violet looked at him, “I am sure you are keen to get on with your own business, so I shall not stay for longer than I’m welcome.”

Violet then bit down a truly scathing remark, which led Violet to the realisation that she was tired. Really tired, because it was only when she got tired that she found herself in an unbearable mood. She took another deep breath and shook her head slightly, “Just -,” _get on with it,_ was at the tip of her tongue, but instead she swallowed it down and said, “You’re welcome for as long as you like.”

Dumbledore bowed his head, and said, “Thank you, Violet,” he paused and looked at all four of them, and then focused on Violet, “Just before you came in, Sirius had offered his ancestral home for the place of meeting for the Order of the Phoenix.”

She spared a quick glance at Harry, who was listening with rapt attention, and she felt some of her anger and stress dissipate, as a smile threatened to break through her face. Violet then flicked her gaze to Sirius who was looking at her, she did smile, a little forcibly, but a smile all the same, and he gave her an amused glance, although a little forcibly too.

Looking back at Dumbledore, Violet said, “Hogwarts a bit too conspicuous?”

Everyone snorted a bit, and Dumbledore gave her that twinkling stare that she loved so much, “I would have wondered if you would offer here, the wards being so highly attuned, however I do have a large suspicion that Severus has a resonating fear of horses.”

It was Violet’s turn to snort, “Probably from seeing Petunia so much as a child. Traumatising.”

Harry laughed loudly and then clapped a hand over his mouth, Violet turned to him and winked, he winked back. Sirius, who had been looking at them with an unreadable expression, turned back to Dumbledore, “You were talking about the first meeting, Dumbledore,” he prompted.

Bowing his head once again, Dumbledore replied, “As I was, Sirius. I am organising the first meeting for Tuesday 13th July, which should hopefully give you all enough time to ensure the home is habitual, even if it is just for a couple of hours or so.” He quickly turned back to Violet, “I am sure you will be most surprised to here that I received a letter from Horace last night, detailing me with his wish to join the Order.”

Violet blinked back in shock, “Really? Wow -,” began Violet, speechless, “That’s – that’s great.”

“Indeed, I should think so,” said Dumbledore, he then turned to Harry, although Violet oddly noted that his gaze was fixed some distance above Harry’s head, “You will be aware, of course, Harry, that the Order is comprised of Witches and Wizards all of age and all of whom have left school.”

Harry, who looked shocked at being addressed fully for the first time, said, “Oh – er – yeah – yeah – I wasn’t expecting…” he trailed off, unsure of what was rude or not.

Dumbledore, however, picked up from Harry’s trail, and said, “Nevertheless, I understand that you will be certainly eager to know all that you can, and I understand that your legal guardian would surely be plotting my murder if I forbid all information from you.”

Violet clasped a hand to her heart, and in mock dramatics, she exclaimed, “Why, Professor? That is an obscene thing to suggest, I would never, never just plot a murder. No – no – I would follow through with my actions.” And although, she had said it as a joke, the threat was still implied. She had meant what she said.

“And I have no doubt that you would,” admitted Dumbledore, “which is why I have no objections in what Violet chooses to tell you, Harry.”

Remus, who had been quiet up until now, asked, “Do you know how many people are going to be there?

Dumbledore looked more than tired, as he said, “I should estimate the number to be around that of 25.”

Admittedly, it wasn’t a lot, it was no army, but there were 25 people willing to fight and believe, so Violet supposed that was better than none.

A few more words were exchanged, and Dumbledore took his leave – Violet was embarrassingly pleased.

* * *

She checked the time on the clock – it was nearly five. Her head was pounding, but she had resolved to get this done today, and she would.

Remus had told them that he was leaving for the night, said something about – Violet couldn’t remember – but he was gone. Even though whatever he had said had most likely been humble rubbish, he was gone, so that left Sirius, Harry and Violet.

“Alright?” asked Sirius, as Violet twisted her hair into a bun at the base of her head.

“Fine,” replied Violet, shortly but not unkindly. She sat at the small desk she had in her living room, pen already in hand, stack of papers waiting to be signed, filled in etc.

“Sure?” asked Sirius, looking at her cautiously.

Violet turned back to him, and didn’t say anything for a moment, and then she said, “I’m fine, Padfoot.”

“Alright, but if I find you in the middle of the field tomorrow morning, well,” he shrugged with a hint of a smile on his face, “it’ll be your own fault.”

Shaking her head, as she watched him with a smile on her face, “And it’ll be _your_ fault if our duelling master doesn’t get enough practise in for today.” She nodded in the direction of the field, where Harry had gone to wait for Sirius, insisting that they could squeeze in another hour for the day.

Sirius grumbled, “You can do it tomorrow; I’m bloody exhausted.”

“Good, now,” she shooed her hands, “off you pop. Harry Potter doesn’t wait for no godfathers.”

He left and it was only about a minute after that Violet realised she was still smiling.


	14. Chapter 14

“No. Absolutely not,” said Violet firmly. The newly reformed Order of the Phoenix were staring between Violet and Dumbledore. Dumbledore was looking at her with a piercing stare, one of an almost pleading look in his eyes. Violet faltered, “I can’t teach,” she stressed.

She was in no way, shape or form a teacher. She – she – she _couldn’t bloody teach._ Dumbledore knew that surely.

Remus chipped in, much to Violet’s dismay, “You can certainly teach Harry.”

Sirius agreed, “You’re a brilliant teacher when it comes to Harry. Answer every single question of his, pull him back up, he looks at you like you hung the moon.” He listed as though that was supposed to prove something.

Violet turned to the both of them, “That’s because he’s my -,” _kid,_ was on the tip of her tongue, but she managed to catch it before it slipped out. She didn’t think it would be very smart if she let out some statement like that in front of the entire Order, “I -,” she gestured to Sirius, “You teach Harry just as well,” she turned back to Dumbledore, “Why aren’t you asking him to teach?”

Rolling his eyes, Sirius nudged her shoulder, “I have less patience _than you_. I think that in itself is a good enough reason not to let me anywhere near Hogwarts, let alone as a Professor.”

She was suddenly hyperaware of the rest of the Order’s gaze still on her, Violet took a deep breath and turned back to Dumbledore, “Can I at least think about it?”

There was no thinking necessary, but she asked for time anyway. She had never had any interest in teaching, nor did she now. She was not going to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. Besides, there was a curse on the job, whether you chose to believe it or not, there was something wrong with the position; that was undeniable.

Now was definitely not the time to be putting herself in the direct path of a curse.

“I cannot force you to take the position, Violet; I can only wish or your agreement,” replied Dumbledore and Violet felt a small dip in her stomach, before she mentally scowled: she would not be guilt tripped, she was no teacher. She would not.

Violet nodded and the conversation continued on to something else, that she should probably have been paying more attention to. Her thoughts now whirring: _would it really be that bad to teach? Defence was the best position as it was the worst. It would be_ a job _for starters; she was rather short on that subject matter, at the moment._

She somehow managed to make eye contact with Snape. He sneered and she grimaced.

Yeah – no. It really would be that bad to teach. A disastrous affair, almost certainly.

* * *

“What’s wrong with teaching, then?” asked Tonks playfully, yet serious, once the meeting was over. Dumbledore, Snape and most other people had left, Kingsley amongst them (A Deputy Head Auror’s job to take over from and things of the like.). It left Remus, Sirius, Tonks and her, who were still sat at the table, all stress and tensions gone.

“It’s not what’s wrong with it. I just can’t – I would make a rubbish Professor,” she nodded fiercely in Tonks’ direction, “I tried training you for one week. One week, before they said I was a shit teacher. I was so shit that they considered Mad-Eye better than me.”

Tonks laughed, with Remus and Sirius and Violet scowled a little, she shook her head, “Alright, so you made a shit Auror trainer, like _really shit_ , but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t be a good Defence Professor.”

Violet stared at her with a raised eyebrow, “You know, I think the only reason I was so shit, was because you were so stupid -,”

“Shut up,” said Tonks, cutting in with a whack to Violet’s shoulder, who laughed in response, “What I meant was: that maybe you were – are – shit at teaching adults, but what about children.”

Remus nodded, and added, “It’s a very good point,” Violet gladly noted the barely noticeable pink tint to Tonks’ cheeks, “You love children,” he said slowly, yet meaningfully.

It was true, she did love children. She loved children because they were only good thing in the world so full of shit. She stared at the werewolf, “It doesn’t matter – I don’t -,” she looked at him harder, “Tell me, what was your response when Dumbledore asked you to be a Professor?”

Everyone looked at him curiously, Remus shifted slightly in his seat, “It was an entirely different circumstance to yours,” he said hastily, “If you haven’t noticed, I’m a werewolf -,”

Sirius gasped mockingly, hand on his heart, “No!”

Violet joined in, “How – I can’t believe this. Sirius, we’ve been lied to -,”

“Indeed, Violet, all this time. You told us you were out doing bits of gardening on full moons, because it made the plants nicer. In fact, I don’t think I can believe it -,”

“Wait! You’re a werewolf?” asked Tonks eyes widened, jestingly.

Remus looked at them all with pursed lips and a wry look on his face, though his eyes gave away his mirth, “Yes, I am, and as I was saying, Violet is not a werewolf -,”

“No!” gasped Sirius again, before grinning wolfishly at his old friend.

“I will leave,” threatened Remus, “ _As I was saying,_ Violet is not a werewolf, and so she should not have to face the same problem as I had.”

“Which was what?” asked Violet.

Remus looked at her strangely, “Transforming into a werewolf once a month?” he said slowly, and Violet rolled her eyes.

“I’ll rephrase, shall I? Honestly, werewolves,” she said exasperatedly, “How did being a werewolf effect your want to teach? And you know I don’t mean it like that,” she added at the end.

Sighing, Remus said, “It didn’t. Not at all. Teaching was something like a miracle of all opportunities for me, even if I were only sought out because Dumbledore thought, Mr. Azkaban-escapee over there, would come for me.”

She rubbed her forehead, Remus’ comments having only made her more confused, and looked around the kitchen/dining room, where the Order meeting had just taken place. Violet could still feel the buzz of undeterred bravery humming around the room, she scoffed lightly, “I think, this might just be a drearier place to grow up than Spinner’s End.”

Sirius scoffed too, “Trust me, my memories are worse.”

Violet grinned crookedly at him, “And a charming mother to match. Now that’s what I call cheeriness wrapped up in one place.”

“Alright, alright,” started Sirius, arms folded at his chest, “At least Snape wasn’t poking his stupidly long nose into my business before I’d turned five.”

Pointing a finger at Sirius, Violet proclaimed, “Hey, you know I’m touchy about such trauma. Leave me alone.”

Tonks cut in before Sirius could respond, “I’ve never understood, what is actually wrong with Snape? Besides the obvious.”

Remus spoke before either Sirius or Violet could get a chance to speak, he nodded his head in Sirius direction, “You hated him because James hated him.”

“Well, cut me a bit of slack,” stated Sirius, an edge of defensiveness in his tone, “He was a bastard in his own right, regardless. And besides, James hated him far more than I did, I hated the lot of them.”

“Who’s the ‘lot’?” asked Tonks interestedly.

Sirius grimaced with a look of disgust and hatred, “There used to be a gaggle of – we called them wanna-be Death Eaters. They were in our school year, Snape, Mulciber, Avery, Wilkes, Rosier,” Sirius listed them off on his fingers, “Slytherins, but that was more important then than now,” added Sirius.

“You and James had a rather disconcerting, or others might call it brave, habit of hexing, often cursing, said gaggle,” said Remus, as an explanation.

“Well, call it bullying, call it brave; they all turned up to be Death Eaters and likely killed more people than all of our fingers and toes combined,” said Violet, a touch impatiently, “Besides, Snape was always a – a –,” there were too many words for Violet to choose from, “you know, I think my earliest memory of him is him telling Lily that I was beneath her, because I had no magic, and that she shouldn’t waste her time with me.”

Tonks blinked back in slight surprise, and asked, “And what happened?”

Violet suddenly grinned, “My memories are a foggy, but I seem to recall my – what would I have been? Five, say? – five-year-old self chucking a football at his face – we were in the school playground.”

“Did it hit?” questioned Sirius, a grin also on his face – looking scarily like his twenty-year-old self.

“Got him right in the nose,” said Violet proudly. She added, as an afterthought, “I only remember because he had a proper bruise, like _proper_ , and because Lily grabbed my hand, whisked me away and called back to Snape, something like ‘Next time it’ll be two footballs’.” Violet finished with a wide grin.

They all laughed, and for a second, Sirius saw a look cross Violet’s face, like she was lost in a memory. She probably was, reasoned Sirius in his mind, it’s not like he didn’t do that enough.

He looked at Violet again, expression back to normal – whatever ‘normal’ was – and he gave a quick glance at Remus too. It was almost laughable really, how far the three of them had come without moving anywhere at all.

Here they were, sat, waiting, preparing to face Voldemort, again. Even if Violet had never fought in the first War, she had prepared to. He thought with a mental shake of his head, that Harry was so like Violet it genuinely made his head spin.

He had seen James first, then Lily, then a mix, and then realised that Harry was like neither of them, and that he was just a teenage-boy version of the teenage-girl Violet Evans.

Sirius remembered, Violet looking at them all, younger than Harry had been, but with that same expression and asking them to teach her how to duel properly.

They had asked her if there were people hurting her at Hogwarts.

She had scowled at them all, and said, quote unquote, “If you step in front of another person’s battle, it’s probably a good idea to know how to win, isn’t it?”

Those words had stuck inside Sirius’ mind for as long as he could remember, they had practically carried him to Azkaban. He looked at her again, laughing with Tonks, red hair tumbling down her back; if he looked properly, he could just see that thirteen-year-old girl.

* * *

“So…How was it?” questioned Harry, having come home from the Weasleys, and was now sat with Violet, Sirius and Remus eating yet another Chinese, because none of them could be fully arsed to try and cook.

“How was what?” asked Violet teasingly.

Harry scowled at her, and then looked to Sirius and Remus for support. An innocent look crossed Sirius' face, “Haven’t the foggiest what you’re talking about.”

Remus smiled at him, eyes glinting with a hint of mirth, “The tea was fabulous, if that’s what you’re asking. Turns out Dumbledore makes a wonderful cup.”

Harry ruffled a hand through his hair frustratedly, in a manner so like James, that the three of them paused.

Forks halfway between the table and open mouths. Steam still rising off the food. And then the three of them burst out laughing. Violet was the first to speak, eyes near-identical to Harry’s still crinkled with mirth, “I am _so_ sorry that James was your father.”

Not being able to hold in his own laughter, Harry stared at them all in a mix of contentment and frustration, “You should be sorrier that you’re my aunt.”

Violet’s mouth fell open in shock, “You cheeky little bugger. Right that’s it, you can kiss goodbye to your Firebolt for the rest of Summer.”

“That stopped working after second year,” said Harry, waving a flippant hand, looking every bit of happy.

Staring up to the ceiling, as if to ask for help from anyone listening, Violet flicked her eyes back to Sirius, “Sirius, sort your godson out, he’s gone all wrong.”

Sirius looked as happy as Harry, and replied, “No can do, dearest Violet, the failed boy is your sole responsibility -,”

Violet slammed her glass of water back down, from where she had been drinking, “You know what? Maybe I should teach. Be able to finally get away from you _bastards._ ”

* * *

“The cup. The locket. The ring. The snake. Something from Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. And Voldemort himself,” listed Harry. Violet sat beside him, and Dumbledore sat opposite him, still notably not making eye contact with Harry.

Dumbledore nodded slightly, “Summed up perfectly.”

Violet narrowed her eyes a bit, and her head tilted, “Bit of a narcissist, wasn’t he?”

“A bit?” asked Harry, sarcastically. Dumbledore smiled at the two of them, and then Harry spoke up again, “So, they could just be anywhere, like, at the bottom of the sea or something.”

Speaking before Dumbledore got a chance to, Violet said, “I don’t reckon he’d have been smart enough to drop a centuries old Slytherin locket in the sea, hoping it would reach the bottom.”

Harry frowned, “What d’you mean?”

Violet turned and looked at Harry, “You’ll find a lot of wizards to be traditionalists. Family heirlooms take precedence over a lot of things. It’s a symbol of wealth I suppose, well, worth is probably a better word.” She noted Harry’s expression, with a wry smile, “Which to us poor Muggle folk sounds like horse -,” she remembered Dumbledore’s presence in the room, “like rubbish. Waste of time, money, effort.”

“Yeah, but what’s that got to do with it?” asked Harry, frowning deeper still.

This time Dumbledore spoke before Violet, “As both of you have agreed, Tom Riddle was a narcissist. Incredibly, incredibly eager for pride, and as Violet aptly explained, an heirloom, an object can hold more pride to a narcissist than anything we could possibly imagine.”

He had got up and started pacing, “And even more so, in the case of Tom Riddle, because, you both saw it in the memory mine, did you not? That Tom Riddle possessed a magpie-like tendency from the age of before eleven. These objects, heirlooms, some of his own, some he acquired for himself, each contain a portion of his soul.”

Turning back to them both, Dumbledore carried on, “It would have been clever to place the Horcruxes in an undisclosed place, somewhere, such as the bottom of the sea. However, Tom Riddle was, as Violet pointed out, not that smart. He was proud, protective, but, and it is vital that you both understand this, he was also scared.”

Violet frowned, “Scared? Of what? Losing them?”

For a sparring second, the twinkle came to Dumbledore’s eye, before it vanished and he carried on with the same vigour as before, “Yes, of many things, losing them being one of them. He needed to put them in a place where he thought they were safe. Manned by his protection, but safe. The Horcruxes are his biggest secret. They are his key to the world, his key to immortality.”

“So, they’re hidden in specific places, that meant something to Tom Riddle. A significant place then,” surmised Harry, brow in a deep furrow.

“Precisely, Harry. Precisely,” agreed Dumbledore, sitting back down in his chair.

Violet looked at Dumbledore and found Dumbledore to be looking at her. She was silent for a few moments, thinking, thinking and thinking. Then, she blurted, much to Harry’s surprise, “I’ll do it. I’ll teach Defence.”

Dumbledore looked annoyingly triumphant.

* * *

“How come you changed your mind?” asked Harry, as the two of them walked up the countryside paths leading up to Violet’s house.

“You,” stated Violet.

“Me?”

“Yes, you, and the Horcruxes, they’re important too.” She brought out her wand as they reached the wards, “Fair warning though, I’ll be a crap teacher.”

Harry grinned, “Nah, you won’t. Besides, you can’t be worse that Lockhart, and at least you don’t have Voldemort sticking out the back of your head.”

Violet smiled at him, “Yeah, alright, but I’m no werewolf,” she said, knowing his high regard of Remus in the classroom.

“Yeah, exactly. At least you won’t mysteriously disappear once a month.”


	15. Chapter 15

“Harry told me to tell you, he thinks he should have been allowed to come,” said Violet to Dumbledore, as she met him on the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

Dumbledore turned to her curiously, a twinkle in his eye, “I do not recall forbidding Harry to accompany us. I merely recall leaving the decision up to you.”

Violet shrugged and tried to be amused at herself; it didn’t work, because it wasn’t funny, “He knows you’re not looking at him. It was an easy excuse – sorry,” she added as an afterthought, “I don’t really have this whole guardian thing down to a T.”

He hummed as they both looked out on to the Shrieking Shack – a stupid building. Violet thought she might just hate it. Almost as much as she hated Peter Pettigrew. He said nothing for a moment, before turning slightly, in his midnight blue robes – a lot more discrete – and looked deeply at Violet, “There are matters surrounding Harry that are in dire need of a conversation between, preferably, you and I. However, for now, they can wait; there is a greater task at hand.”

Taking the hand that Dumbledore had held out, Violet braced her body for sidelong Apparition – it was always worse.

Three, two, one.

And the two disappeared with a crack.

When they landed in the secluded area that Violet recalled from Bob Ogden’s memory, Violet staggered a little but remained a firmly on the ground. Her eyes flicked around the surroundings, addressing the place. Dumbledore began to stride and Violet quickly followed.

She made sure she could feel her wand at all times, in the holster around her wrist. Her heart was beating faster than usual, but it was more out of anticipation than nervousness – there was nothing to really be nervous about.

The road was a long one, and the two didn’t speak for at least five minutes as they made their way quickly down the path.

The village of Little Hangleton, soon came into view, and Violet was almost surprised at how normal it looked. Who could have guessed that not a month before Lord Voldemort had been risen again? Who could have guessed that this was where a Dark Lord had lived for a year? No one.

All those Muggles going about their business with no idea, not a clue or a shadow of a doubt. They had no idea.

“This way, if you will, Violet,” led Dumbledore taking a right at a cross. Violet followed; she could still feel her wand. She was with Dumbledore. They would be fine. She was with Dumbledore. What could go wrong?

* * *

“Lovely,” said Violet dryly, noting the two rotting snake hammered on to the door. The front garden of the Gaunt house was awful, in fact, Violet didn’t even think it could be coined a ‘garden’. Something more like a large patch of overgrown weeds.

“Keep your wand out, Violet,” said Dumbledore addressing the place as Violet had. She had no intention of putting it away.

Dumbledore went first, tapping his wand on the door, Violet presumed to check for curses, unlock it, important stuff like that. His wrinkled hand pushed the door open, and the two were struck with a foul smell. A foul smell of rotting wood and dust; an inhospitable smell.

Neither of them spoke, mainly because either of them had yet to be hit with a curse. Violet’s eyes darted about the rotting house; her nose crinkled bearing the smell.

Dumbledore took a step forwards.

Nothing happened.

He took another step forward.

Nothing happened.

Violet stepped forward too.

And they were both in the house. The door shut behind them, and it became eerily dark. The windows were sleeked with grime and dirt, making it hard for any light to seep through. Violet vaguely recognised that this house was worse than Grimmauld Place, and that was saying something.

She brought her wand up, _lumos._ A glow elicited around them. She looked at Dumbledore, “Can Horcruxes be traced?” she looked around, at the curse-barren place, “Or the curses on them?”

His eyes weren’t twinkling, but they glowed as they looked back at Violet under the light of her wand, “It will be hidden, not spectacularly, but hidden, nonetheless.” He nodded at Violet, “I will be most surprised if a curse has not been placed upon it, as a method of protection.”

Violet nodded and looked around again. Not hidden spectacularly. Which Violet took to mean no magic. But a curse. “Would it be better to look separately?” asked Violet, mind running over the possibilities of non-magical hiding places.

“I should think so.”

Right, then.

* * *

Violet pulled open a draw in the upstairs bedroom, her alighted wand running over the contents. Nothing but bits of parchment. She saw the recognisable Gringotts stamp. Letters signed Son, addressed to Father. Sister to Brother. Morfin’s room then.

She doubted very much that it would be in here.

Dumbledore had taken downstairs, whilst she had taken upstairs. Violet retreated back into the hallway; she heard shuffling and creaking from downstairs. There was a chill in her spine. It was at least a solid five months, since she had been on an Auror mission where she had felt the chill. Investigating an abandoned flat above some illegal potion makers store in Knockturn Alley.

She looked at the surrounding rooms, trying to find the one that would have belonged to Merope. There was more chance of Tom Riddle hiding the horcrux in his mother’s room than in his uncle’s.

Her boots made the rotting floorboards creak under her weight. She was half worried a corpse of one of the Gaunts would start scuttling at her. She wouldn’t have put it past Tom Riddle. But none did.

She reached the room at the end of the house, it was rotting still, but it was intrinsically feminine. Violet could tell. From the way the moth-eaten bed sheets and cover had been set neatly, to the way the wardrobe doors were closed.

This had been Merope Gaunt’s bedroom.

There was a hole in the grimy window, and Violet went over and inspected. From the hole she had perfect view of the road that lead up to Riddle Manor. This had definitely been Merope Gaunt’s bedroom.

Violet couldn’t feel anything, she couldn’t feel that lingering smell of the Dark Arts that usually rang a stench. She turned back to the wardrobe curiously. It was the only place something could have been hidden, with no where else to store anything.

She placed her fingers loosely on the dusty knob of one of the doors and pulled it open. She was hit with yet another wave of a foul, dusty, nose crinkling smell. Violet was met with moth-eaten robes, that looked like they had never seen a good day in their life.

They looked to be overworn and threadbare. Violet brushed passed them and scanned the wooden base for the wardrobe. And though she did not find a Horcrux, she found something as equally interesting; she found a leatherbound diary.

Like mother like son.

Her hand reached out and grabbed a hold of the spine. There was no curse on it. She positioned her wand in between her thumb and index finger and flicked open the diary. Her eyes were met with crammed scrawls of tightly packed writing. The parchment was thin and flimsy, and wearing at the edges, but it was legible, and that’s all that mattered.

She placed the diary carefully in her bag that had been stuffed in her boot, and then she heard a large cracking sound, of breaking wood.

Her body froze rigid.

She called out, “Professor?”

There was no answer. Her body unfroze, and she quickly stuffed the bag back into her boot, and practically jolted through the rotting house.

* * *

Violet’s chest heaved up and down, as she tried to catch back her breath. Dumbledore didn’t seem to be fairing much better. She had raced down the stairs to find Dumbledore a hair’s width from touching the ring – the Horcrux. Never before had she seen Dumbledore like that – _enraptured._

Never before had she been genuinely scared of him – for him – it was the same difference.

She had fought the curse because Dumbledore had been in a state of shock; she had never seen him like that before either. She had never fought a curse like that – a curse so dark – so vile. A curse designed to – God, she didn’t even know; she didn’t think she even wanted to know.

It had drained her, she could feel it in her chest, a tiredness that always came with depleted magic. The ring was lying on the ground, a bit of Tom Riddle’s soul. Dumbledore was staring at it. Violet was staring at him.

“Are you -,” she was still dreadfully out of breath, “Are you alright?” she wheezed out. “It didn’t get you, did it?”

Her voice brought Dumbledore out of his stupor and he looked at her, almost sadly, “No, thankfully it did not – Violet, I must thank you, I believe you have just saved my life.”

Swallowing thickly, Violet shook her head, “I didn’t – It wasn’t -,” unable to get the right words out, she said instead, “What was the crack? What happened?”

By now, Dumbledore had stood up and was approaching the Horcrux, he crouched down and investigated, all whilst explaining to Violet, “It was hidden underneath a floor board,” he gestured back down the hallway, where Violet caught sight of a now lifted floorboard, and a gap in the floor. “I thought I felt something and so I pulled up the floorboard, I must have frightened you, I am sorry.”

Violet, whose breath had now returned to a more normal pace, nodded, “Probably a good thing that you did frighten me.”

Dumbledore said nothing, as he prodded the Horcrux with his wand, nothing happened. Violet released a shaky breath and also moved towards the Horcrux, she crouched next to Dumbledore and looked at the ring. A bit of Tom Riddle’s soul.

The ring. One of seven. There. They had found it. They had it. One step closer.

Between the both of them there was a sort of great feeling of relief humming around the dreary house. Violet couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on her face – one step closer.

They had another one.

* * *

_13 th March 1925_

_I managed to save up for this diary after nearly four years. I bought it the other day, from Tomes and Scrolls. Another girl, Mary Abbot, was showing her diary off in Charms to her friends, said she has important information on loads of the school in there. I don’t think I want to write important information. I just want to write what I feel like writing. I don’t want to tell anyone. I want it to be my secret. Although, I doubt it would make any difference to what people think of me, I’m the freak. Merope Gaunt._

_They say my name matches my face, so I speak Parseltongue to them, which scares them for a while. Only for a while though, because it’s true. None of that matters. They do not matter. They will die one day, as will I, and then, none of it will matter, because all of us will be dead, our names will be forgotten. One day, all we will be is a series of letters on a family tree. Perhaps our names may make up a few lines of a textbook in the Hogwarts library, but forgotten. Rotting bodies. Memories forgotten. Nothing. A pile of ashes. Nothing._

_Maybe that’s why I wanted this diary, to preserve memories, my memories._

_My name is Merope Gaunt. I am seventeen years old. I am one of three last living descendants of Salazar Slytherin, and I can speak to snakes._

* * *

Violet stared at the small scrawl that filled the first page of the diary. It was night, and the world was asleep, but Violet couldn’t sleep. Not with traces of adrenaline still running through her blood. Her pale fingers ran across the dried ink, and she pictured the girl from Bob Ogden’s memories, sat writing this, in her Hogwarts bed.

Merope Gaunt, mother to Tom Riddle.

She reread the almost poetic outlook on life and felt herself almost mentally scoff at the irony of the paragraph. A girl of seventeen, framing the meaning of life and death inside the first page of her diary. Merope Gaunt had clearly never been afraid of death, in fact, Violet guessed through the tone of the writing that she had pictured death to be some form of peace that she never had.

An escape.

And yet, Merope Gaunt had given birth to a person, a boy, so afraid of death he had made himself immortal.

Violet flicked to the last entry in the diary, it was dated, _25 th December 1926_, a week before Tom Riddle was born and a week before she died.

She closed the diary and held it gingerly in her hands; just who was Merope Gaunt?

* * *

“Next time,” said Violet to Harry, tea in hand, legs folded underneath her on the sofa, “You’ll be able to go next time.”

“Did Dumbledore say?” asked Harry speculatively. Tea also in hand, legs rested on the edge of the sofa.

“No, _I_ said,” replied Violet. She had left no room for argument, so Harry just accepted it for what it was and left it. She added on, “There’s another Order meeting tomorrow, you’re alright going to the Weasleys again, yeah?”

“Yeah,” agreed Harry quickly, “Yeah, as long as you tell me what you talk about.”

Violet looked at him, and then grinned, “You sure? You’re a bit young yet, might not be able to take it.” She finished with a shrug.

Harry turned to her with narrowed eyes, “Hey, I’m fifteen in two days -,”

“Oh, I so frightened,” remarked Violet sarcastically.

“You should be,” threatened Harry and Violet laughed.

“I am actually,” admitted Violet, and Harry stared at her with a questioning expression. She looked back at him, “Really, I am. I’ve been waiting two years now for a moody teenager phase, I reckon fifteen is gonna be the tipping point, plus I’m teaching this year, I’ll have to deal with you and your death-defying nonsense first-hand.”

Harry leant back into the sofa, a grin on his face, “I can’t believe you’re gonna be the Defence Professor.” He suddenly laughed, and Violet was struck with how happy he looked, the first time since about a year ago had Violet been able to say Harry looked truly, truly content, “Please, please, please make sure you give Malfoy hell. Please, Merlin, I promise I won’t have a moody teenager phase if you do.”

Violet laughed again and she shuffled up next to Harry and swung her legs down, so they were in the same position as his, tea on the little table next to the sofa. She nudged his shoulder with hers, “I don’t think that kind of thing is really up for agreement.”

Just then, the roar of Sirius’ motorbike ran through the living room, Violet stood up, “Dinner’s here. You get the tea, I’ll set the table, yeah?”

Harry also stood up, “Got it, Professor.”

“Hey, I can give detentions now, you'll wanna be careful.”

* * *

“Jealous?” A voice rang in through her ear and throughout Violet’s head.

“I – fucking hell!” exclaimed Violet her entire body jolted and the pot of tea she had been tasked to man over was now cracked all over the floor. She just managed to catch sight of Tonks’ bubble-gum pink hair, before a curse had been shot in her direction.

She darted out of the way and watched as it hit the cupboards, a large scorch march was not on the wood. Violet whirled around and caught sight of everyone’s eyes on her, including _hers_ , and Mad-Eye stood, tucking his wand back into his holster.

Mad-Eye looked at her, artificial eye and normal one, “How many times will I have to tell you, Evans? Daydreamers get killed!”

“Right – yep – cheers, Mad-Eye, but I think I have more chance of being killed by you than by daydreaming,” replied Violet now crouched down, investigating the mess she’d made – or the mess Tonks had made. She looked up to see Molly approaching her, “It’s all right, Molly, I’ll sort it – make a new one – sorry.”

“No need to be sorry, dear. Are you sure you don’t want any help?” said Molly in reply.

“Yeah, thanks – I’ll be fine – Nymphadora, here, can help me actually,” announced Violet, bringing out her wand. She gripped on to the leg of the table to steady herself as Tonks shoved her.

_Reparo. Tergeo._

The spill of hot tea on the floor was now gone, and a newly mended pot sat on the floor, with Tonks and Violet crouched next to it. Tonks hissed in her ear, “I asked if you were jealous.”

Violet scowled at her, as she caught sight of the feral grin now situated on her friend’s face. She hissed back, “I wasn’t – just thinking.”

“You were making a pretty deathly stare at Hestia’s face for it to be _just thinking_ -,”

“ - You two all right down there?” called Diggle, who was sat a couple of chairs away from the end of the table.

They both stood up abruptly and Violet was pleased when Tonks hit her head on the table on the way up. Violet put the pot back on the table and smiled kindly at him, “Fine, thanks – Nymphadora gets quite touchy – ouch! That hurt, you -,” Violet grabbed Tonks’ hand from where it had pinched her and squeezed it as hard as she could, “– about her name.”

Violet let go of Tonks’ hand, but before she turned to remake the pot of tea, she whispered in Tonks’ ear, “Come talk to me about jealousy when you stop blushing every time Remus makes eye-contact with you.”

Five minutes later, Violet was sat at the table, Dumbledore had began speaking, and Violet let her eyes quickly dart to Sirius and to Hestia Jones. They were sat next to each other, and Violet looked away. She felt a huge surge of _something_ (not jealousy) wash over her chest.

She made eye-contact with Tonks, who was staring at her with an eyebrow raised. Violet kicked her shin, and mouthed, “Shut up,” to her.

She was not bloody jealous.

She didn’t even _like_ Sirius like that. He was Sirius, she didn’t _feel attraction_ for Sirius bloody Black.

And she was _not_ bloody jealous of Hestia bloody Jones, who had been nothing but lovely to her since they had met a few years ago at the Ministry.

Snape was droning now, and Violet rested her chin in her palm; they had only been talking – she willed herself not to look again – people spoke. It was normal.

And she was not bloody jealous.


	16. Chapter 16

“Her sister,” answered Violet in response to the man’s question as to who she was. “I’m just here to give moral support.”

The man – Violet had forgotten his name already – laughed and added, good naturedly, “It can be quite taxing on the soul: banking.”

Both Petunia and Violet stared at him, wondering if that was a joke or not. The man suddenly became quite flustered and dismissed himself, with the excuse of remembering a form that would need to be filled in that he had, conveniently, forgotten.

Violet hid a smirk as she looked out of the window, the bank looking out on to the busy high street of the centre of Surrey. Her arm that was rested on the arm of the chair, was rested in a way that let her hand cover her mouth. She couldn’t help it.

She had to say it. She couldn’t help it. She said, “I think he might have been coming on to you.”

She felt her sister’s gaze on her, but she was yet to look away from the window. Petunia might have been about to say something, but Violet would never know, because the man had, conveniently, returned with the ‘form’ that needed to be filled in.

About an hour later, all forms had been filled in, and Violet and Petunia were out of the bank and back on to the high street. An unbearable silence hung between them.

Violet was first to break, “Right, well – er – I should…” she waved her hand about in the opposite direction, where she had seen a nice little back street, that looked like an excellent place to apparate.

“Ok,” replied Petunia, “I should probably get back too. Vernon will be home soon.”

At the mention of her bother-in-law, Violet crinkled her nose, but Petunia didn’t see. Violet looked about awkwardly, “Right – see you then.”

And off they went.

* * *

“I’ve got a bad feeling,” stated Violet to Remus. The both of them were in Violet’s living room, with two cups of tea steaming on the table in front of the sofa.

Remus looked at her mildly, “What sort of bad feeling?”

“Don’t know. Just a bad one,” said Violet, her eyes were distant as they watched the slowly darkening blue sky as the summer Sun set for the late evening.

Harry and Sirius had gone out for – what Sirius had called – an introduction into motorbiking. They had left about an hour ago, and now Violet had been left with a bad feeling.

It was one of those undeniable sick feelings that made your heart hammer that bit faster. It wasn’t a feeling that Violet had never felt before. And that was why she was worried. Nothing good ever happened when her heart hammered before she knew something bad had happened. Nothing. Never. Never ever never.

“I know Sirius is an idiot, but he would never let anything happen to Harry,” added Remus in a comforting tone. Violet could feel his concerned gaze on the side of her head, as she stared out of the window.

“I know – it’s not that – I just feel…” she trailed off at the end, unable to express her thoughts. They had been gone for about an hour now. The clock was ticking its way past nine. Violet thought sourly, that if they weren’t back within the next half hour, she was going to kill Sirius.

“How did it go with your sister?” Remus broke the silence, and Violet knew he was trying to distract her from her feelings. She didn’t know if she felt grateful or not.

She answered anyway. A slight scoff escaped her mouth, “No idea. She’s so hard to read, ridiculously hard. I can’t understand the way her brain works. She’s impossible.”

“Well, shall I start simpler? Did you argue?” His voice was calm and collected; a complete contradiction to how Violet was feeling.

“No,” admitted Violet, “There wasn’t really much chance to, or really much to argue about.” She looked at him, “She put Harry in a fucking cupboard for ten years, and she thinks she has the audacity to say she hates me.”

Remus didn’t say anything for a moment, and Violet looked away, wishing she hadn’t said anything, Then, he spoke carefully and cautiously, “Do you think you’re more hurt that she hates you, while you don’t?

Violet looked at him sharply, “And I suppose you’re an expert on sisters, are you?” The second the words left her mouth she regretted them. She muttered, “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, I had that coming,” said Remus.

“You know, I think I just want to know why she hates me. It’s deeper than jealousy, deeper than not having magic, I know it. You can’t put your nephew into a fucking cupboard just because you’re jealous.”

“Do you think she _truly_ hates you?” asked Remus and Violet’s brows furrowed at the question.

“Why? Do you not?” responded Violet.

“I think you’d be surprised -,”

Violet snorted, “Alright, let’s not get too excited, this is petty Petunia, we’re talking about. I wouldn’t underestimate her -,”

She was cut off with the accustomed roar of Sirius’ motorbike, and Violet felt her body stand up before her mind had had chance to understand what had happened. She decided as she whipped around her sofa and out to the hallway, that she was going to kill Sirius anyway.

“Violet! Violet!” As she yanked open her front door, she was met with calls of her name erupting from Harry’s mouth. She vaguely noted Remus’ presence behind her, as panic ran through her veins, she barely had time to acknowledge him.

“What happened?” Violet asked, moving quickly out of the comfort of her home and into the darkening night. Harry’s voice had been panicked and shaken, and she hadn’t heard Sirius. She hadn’t bloody fucking heard Sirius.

“Dementors. I didn’t know what to do. They got Sirius first. I – Violet -,”

Violet felt dread run through her, and for a fleeting second, Violet thought Harry had meant they had administered the Kiss on Sirius. Remus must have thought the same but managed to get words out far quicker than Violet, “They got him?” he questioned, checking his wording.

Harry looked up at him, “No – no – not like that – I don’t think – I managed to get my Patronus before they could.”

Lo and behold, there Sirius was, white as a sheet and unconscious, slumped over the motorbike.

“Okay – okay,” Violet tried to rationalise, both herself and the situation, “Right – let’s get him in, and then we can figure this out.”

* * *

“A muggle saw,” Harry’s voice was still shaking slightly, “It was the greengrocer from the village. I don’t think she saw me cast the Patronus, but she must have been in the area, and she felt the Dementors. She – she – I didn’t know what to do -,”

“But what did you do?” asked Violet as she fished out some calming draught that she had in her stores. She didn’t have any chocolate, so the potion would have to do.

“I – I stupefied her,” said Harry, regret clear in his tone. It was that last thing Violet had wanted to come from his mouth. She stared at Remus, one thought clear between the two of them: that this would cause more trouble than they wanted. Violet handed him the potion, he shook his head, and said, “I’m fine.”

“Drink the bloody potion, Harry.”

Harry drank the potion.

Violet looked at Sirius, who was now lying on Violet’s sofa, still unconscious. She knew to leave the unconscious until they woke, especially when the cause of that was from a Dementor. She felt her stomach sinking.

“How many were there?” asked Remus, who Violet knew was also looking at Sirius.

“What?” questioned Harry, a frown on his face.

“You said ‘Dementors’, how many?” His voice was calm, but Violet could tell he was as worried as she was. They were both waiting for the owl to arrive with the writing containing Harry’s verdict.

“Two, I think. There might have been more, but I only saw two,” explained Harry.

Violet turned to Remus, “You think Voldemort? Or the Ministry?”

“The Ministry?” asked Remus, surprise laced into his tone, and both eyebrows raised.

Voldemort then, answered Violet, in her head. Outwardly, she shrugged, “Maybe Voldemort and the Ministry.”

“D’you mean who sent the Dementors?” asked Harry, voice significantly less shaky, and an empty potion phial in his hand. Violet hummed as conformation, and perched herself on the arm of the armchair, on which Harry was sitting. Harry looked slightly confused, “But why would the Ministry – oh.” His mind was clearly on the slander and dirt his name had been dragged through in the past month.

Violet had had half mind to sue the Prophet for libel, but Harry had stopped her (and Remus and partially Sirius), who had all said that it was best if they remained quiet and let it seem as if it hadn’t bothered them.

She knew Fudge though. He was weak, and his power came from those he surrounded himself with, like Malfoy and the Prophet, so if she took down those forces – well…

And so, she was still half in mind to embarrass the Ministry. She just didn’t know how.

It was in the midst of that thought that a pecking was heard by all three conscious members of the living room. Violet grumbled, “Fuck’s sake…” she got up and opened the window. She took the letter off its leg and shooed it away. Shutting the window once again, she handed Harry the letter.

There was silence for a moment, while both Violet and Remus let Harry read the letter. Until Harry looked up at both of them, and said solemnly, “I’ve been expelled.”

Violet shot up like a spark, “What?” she exclaimed harshly.

Remus looked equally confused, “They can’t. That’s not right.” He was shaking his head.

Harry looked miserable, “Well, they’ve just done it.”

“No – no – Harry, you misunderstand, Ministry _can’t_ expel any pupil at Hogwarts. It’s not a school where the Ministry have power over which students can be expelled – Violet, what are you doing?”

Violet, who had been putting her wand holster on her wrist, looked up at Remus, “Getting ready to go to the Ministry.”

Remus looked at her, knowing nothing he could say would be able to deter her, and just said, “Don’t hex Fudge, that’ll be more trouble than we’ve got now.”

“Don’t panic, Moony, I have excellent self-restraint,” she almost smiled a bit at the werewolf.

“I’m afraid that’s why I’m panicking,” responded Remus.

She had made her way to the door, and added, “You’ll need to go find that lady, the greengrocer, and -,” she paused, thinking her plan through, “Bring her here, I know her. Don’t rennervate her, just make sure she’s not out cold in the middle of the, wherever you were, and make sure no one finds her,” she nodded to Harry. She looked back at Sirius, “But don’t leave him alone, just in case he wakes up.” She added as an afterthought, “I’ll probably be back within an hour. Unless I’ve been sent to Azkaban for murdering the Minister for Magic.”

* * *

As it panned out, Violet had managed to beat Dumbledore to Fudge’s office by about two minutes. Which meant that by the time Dumbledore had made his way through the Ministry and into Fudge’s office, Violet was already shouting.

Umbridge was there too, looking outraged in her stupid toady face.

“I think, Minister, you’ll find that I worked in the law department for long enough to know that you have absolutely no fucking power in your hand to expel any fucking student, let alone Harry Potter!” Violet was leaning over the desk, hands pressed firmly into the varnished wood – an attempt to stop her from reaching for her wand.

Dumbledore had sat down in a conjured armchair, and Violet was more thankful for it than he would ever know.

The toad made her customary, ‘hem – hem’ and Violet was overwhelmed with a sudden urge to smash a fist into her mouth. The toad spoke, in a sugary voice, that made Violet grit her teeth, “If I may interrupt you there, Miss Evans,” her emphasis on the ‘Miss’ made Violet grit her teeth harder, for she took it to be both the toad infantilising her and highlighting the fact that she was nearing thirty and she still wasn’t married. “I am afraid you will need to calm down; the Minister does not tolerate such vulgar language -,”

“Who are you again?” Violet cut through scathingly.

Bristling, the toad looked furious, “I am Senior Undersecretary for the Minister -,”

Violet cut her off again, “Oh, good, for a moment there I thought you were posing as the Minister’s mouth.” She spoke lowly and dangerously, “Because I’m sure if the Minister has a problem with my _fucking_ language, he can tell me by him- _fucking-self._ ”

Fudge, who was looking rather red in his face, held up a hand to try and calm the toad, who, Violet gladly noted, was bearing a vague resemblance to a purple toad, “It’s alright, Delores. I can manage.”

She spoke first, again, knowing that she needed the upper hand, “If, and I mean if, because one can never be sure with this Ministry, you heed by the laws of the Wizarding World, a hearing will be ordered. A hearing where a verdict will then be decided. Do you understand, Minister? Or should I break it down more simply?” By the time she had finished, Violet was practically hissing into Fudge’s face.

She got a kick out of it though, despite the severity of the situation, because in the ten years she worked in the Ministry, she had never been able to do this. Speak so blatantly without worrying about being fired.

“ _Potter stupefied a Muggle_ -,”

“Did he?” asked Dumbledore, mildly. Violet had, in her ire, almost forgotten he had been there. Almost. His withered hands were placed together at his fingertips and were resting on his silver chin, “Well, then, I believe a congratulation is in order.”

“A congratulation? What are you talking about?” spluttered Fudge. His face slowly turning redder and redder.

“Surely, you must agree, Minister, that there must have been a reason as to why Harry cast a Patronus in the first place, but I am sure we will hear about that at the hearing.” Violet truly, truly tried to supress her snort, but, well, somethings are easier said than done.

“ _Something amusing, Evans_?” Fudge practically snarled at her.

Violet grinned lazily, “Other than your incompetency?”

And, well, let’s just say, Violet was not back within an hour.

* * *

She got back home just after midnight, and by then, Sirius was awake and there was a stupefied greengrocer on her sofa. Harry and Remus were still up. Probably waiting for her, thought Violet as she entered the living room.

“Hello,” Violet announced her presence, “I’ve not been arrested.” She tried to make her voice cheery, but it came out a bit dreary from her exhaustion.

“How close was it?” asked Remus, with a hint of a smile on his equally tired looking face.

“Not sure, Fudge was pretty hysteric himself. Dumbledore was there; hilarious as usual.” She turned to face Sirius properly, “You alright?”

He still looked pale – paler than usual, his face looked gaunt – more gaunt than usual, his eyes looked haunted – more haunted than usual, but he answered, “Fine,” in a gruff voice and Violet knew to drop it.

“So?” prompted Harry, “Am I being expelled?”

Violet sat down heavily, and rubbed her eyes furiously, “No – not yet, anyway. You’ve been issued a hearing.” She looked out at the window, “I was told – can you even say ‘told’? – that your letter will be on its way.”

Harry looked distinctly cheerier, “When’s the hearing?” he asked.

Violet paused, “Er – I don’t think we settled on a date. Rest assured though, it’ll be between now and September 1st.”

Remus was the first to let out a sign of amusement, and then Harry, and then Violet, and then (Violet was pleased) Sirius too. They were all laughing, even if the situation was still a mess and a disaster and whatever word you wanted to insert there.

When their laughter was dying out, Violet ruffled her hand through Harry’s hair and said to him, firmly, “You won’t be expelled.”

Harry looked up at her, although it was barely a look up now, “How d’you know?”

Suddenly, Violet grinned at him, “Guess whose gonna be your witness for the defence.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lawyer Violet making her comeback - next chapter should, hopefully, be a good one :)


	17. Chapter 17

“A bit early, isn’t it?”

Violet span around from where she had been feeding Amber an apple to see Sirius making his way towards her. She grinned crookedly, “Could ask you the same.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, once next to her.

She shrugged, “Could ask you the same.”

Violet couldn’t exactly see, but she could imagine his head nodding to the side as he said, “Fair enough.”

They fell into a silence, not an uncomfortable one, just a silence. A regard for each other. A quiet moment to be calm. Almost an appreciation for the other.

“She doesn’t like me,” stated Sirius, nodding to Amber, breaking the silence.

Running her hand through the golden mane, she snorted, “Can’t imagine why,” she paused, “Besides, she’s an excellent judge of character.”

“Somehow, I heavily doubt that.” Amber proceeded to huff into Sirius’ face, as though she had heard him, and Violet turned to face him properly, grinning broadly, an idea popping into her head.

“If I manage to not get Harry expelled, then you have to take her for a ride,” said Violet, making her way up to the stable, to get Ebony out too.

“Hang on,” said Sirius hastily, quickly eyeing up Amber, and making his way up the field to follow Violet, “That wasn’t in the contract.”

Violet called from the stable, where she was unlatching the lock on the gate, “Why, scared?”

Sirius huffed at her as she returned, Ebony in tow, “Right, if you don’t get Harry expelled, I’ll get on your bloody horse, but you’ll have to come with me on a ride -,”

“No. Absolutely not. Don’t be a prick,” she said fiercely. There were many things Violet was not afraid of. She liked to pride herself on being quite adventurous. But she would not – _would not –_ get on Sirius’ bloody motorbike by choice. Not a fucking chance.

She would not send herself to an early grave, thank you very much.

“Not being a prick,” he denied calmly, a sly grin itching its way on to his mouth, “Don’t know what you’re so scared of if I’m honest.”

Bastard. Absolute bastard.

“Fine,” Violet gritted out, “But if I die, I’ll kill you.”

“Fine by me, Freckles,” agreed Sirius, grin still on his face and his hands stuffed in the back pockets of his jeans. And Violet would be lying if she said her heart hadn’t picked up its pace at his intense stare.

Good job she was an excellent liar.

* * *

Half an hour later, Harry and Violet had left the house, as per instructions from Dumbledore, who had said they would most likely push the hearing forward and move the courtroom to one of the one’s in the Department of Mysteries, for a multitude of reasons, but, mainly, to try and isolate Harry first. Make him late and make it so that his witness would similarly be late.

Violet had thought it had been excellent advice, far better than Sirius’ anyway. Who had said called to Violet on the way out, “Don’t fuck it up!”

She had rolled her eyes, as she shrugged on her coat (a personal choice to where Muggle clothes to make a statement), “Oh goodness! What excellent advice! Why hadn’t I thought of that before?”

Another half an hour later, and Violet and Harry were well into the depths of the Ministry, walking through the barren corridors. There was no one here, and it reminded Violet somewhat of when she used to walk around the Ministry early in the morning, trying to think of an answer to a case that had had her puzzled for days. It had always managed to clear her brain, walking in silence.

“Are you nervous?” Violet nudged him slightly.

“A bit,” admitted Harry, although it was known between the two of them that he was more than ‘a bit’ nervous.

“That’s alright,” comforted Violet, “Just don’t panic. Remus has already gone through this with you, but I’m just gonna say it again, for the sake of it.” Harry just nodded, as Violet carried on, “Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to; that’s my job. Don’t get angry; stay calm when answering. They’re going to try their damned best to antagonise you. They want a statement and a drama out of this. Don’t rise to the bait. And, Remus hasn’t said this and I’m sure he’d disagree, say it’s too much pressure or something, but I want you to try and be cheeky – charming – same difference.”

Harry looked at her curiously, “Why?”

Violet smirked a bit and winked at him, “Makes for good publicity.”

Harry wasn’t even sure he knew what she had meant by that.

Staring, Harry looked doubtful, “But I – like what?”

“Something self-deprecating. Like, slip in a comment about – I don’t know – how you’re mad and full of lies. Try and quote the Prophet; I’ll try too, but it’d be better if it came from you.” They turned a corner from one of the corridors to another. Harry didn’t even know where they were.

But, before he could tell Violet that it was highly unlikely that he’d be able to do it, and that he would probably muck it up and make matters worse, and that he wanted to know what would happen if he was actually expelled, they came into cross with Amos Diggory.

Ah.

Crap.

All three of them stood like lemons in the middle of the corridor, with a great big unyielding uncomfortable silence pressing down on them. It was harder, realised Violet, than it looked to consolidate someone who had lost a person they loved, even when, surely, out of anyone, she would be able to empathise the best.

What was surprising though, was that it was Amos who made the first move. He stepped forward, and for a moment Violet thought he was going to hit one of them. Harry, most likely. But he didn’t. No, he just placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder and said, “Cedric would have taken your side.”

Neither of them had any idea what kind of response they should have given to that. So, Harry said, “If it had been the other way, I would have taken Cedric’s.”

Amos just nodded jerkily, and Violet supposed, that was his way of agreeing and saying thanks. He then turned to Violet, which had been most unexpected on her part and said, “Your presence has been sorely missed at the Ministry, Evans.”

She laughed and, though she wasn’t sure which, she did it out of genuine amusement at the ridiculousness of his statement, or in an attempt to be charming, “No, it hasn’t.”

He just patted her shoulder – he looked much older and wearier close up – and replied, “I think you’d be surprised.” And then he looked between the both of them, “Listen, I’m not entirely sure, but I heard Fudge talking with Umbridge yesterday, that they’re going to move your hearing to three-hours earlier and to courtroom 10.”

“Courtroom 10?” exclaimed Violet with surprise. She had known the place would have been moved, but _courtroom 10,_ the notorious courtroom for the notorious trials. Most usually for mass murder – take Sirius Black as an example. What a bunch of bastards – courtroom 10, for a _disciplinary hearing_. Who did they think they were?

“It’s just what I heard,” said Amos.

Violet stood up straighter, “Right, well, thank you, Amos.” He nodded at her and then left. Violet turned to Harry, “If anything, it’ll be their loss. They’ve built this up so much that it’ll just come crashing down on them heavier and harder.”

The question of ‘on which side? Theirs or ours?’ was left hanging between them, as they carried on to courtroom 10.

* * *

They were the first to get to courtroom 10, because they knew the trial time would be moved, and they wanted to make a statement. It was cold and dreary. There was a chair in the middle of the court, where Harry would sit, where Sirius had sat just over a year ago.

Violet looked around the courtroom in both awe and disgust: a year. It felt simultaneously like just yesterday and like so long ago.

She turned to Harry, who looked at her grimly, “Feels like I’m being trialled for murder.”

Looking equally grim, Violet lamented, “It’s supposed to.”

The two of them were sat in the crowd stands, at the front, so when Fudge came in his back would be to them, and they – well, Violet - could greet him accordingly. Violet checked her watch; it was about nearing eight. The trial had been scheduled to start at eleven. She had predicted a three-hour push forwards. 

She looked at ease, which was the point, but she felt nervous. Her stomach was twisting and winding around itself, over and over and over. But she had to stay calm, outwardly at least, for Harry. Which was a good enough incentive as it were: for Harry.

A couple minutes later, and they heard the courtroom doors open and a wide range of chatter fill the dreary depths of the courtroom.

Her arm was slinked over the wood; she had considered propping her feet up on the barrier in front of them, but she had, ultimately, decided that might be just a tad too dramatic. Just a tad.

It was a Winzengamot member who had seen them first and then suddenly all of them had seen the two of them. It was almost comical how they all turned and looked at the aunt and nephew, eyes wide and mouths agape, as though they had just returned from the Moon.

Violet waved the hand slinked over the wood lazily, “Hello, fancy seeing you here.”

Her accorded greeting had definitely brought Fudge out of his stupor, and he looked abashed, although hidden well, “So you – er - got the letter about – about the time and place of the trial, did you?”

Violet fought down her smirk with vigour, as she turned to look at Harry, “I can’t remember, did we?”

Harry looked pensive for a moment, trying to search for the memory, “No – no – I don’t think we did.”

“Crazy,” marvelled Violet, “What a lucky coincidence, eh?” She made eye-contact with Bones and Violet winked at her. God, had she missed that woman. Bones didn’t look impressed, but Violet could tell she was slightly, very slightly, amused.

Violet noted Delores Umbridge and thought, cuttingly, that she was so ready to take that cow down a few pegs. Her other hand was rested, very lightly on the top right pocket of her jeans, where the memory she had managed to convince Sirius to give her lay, floating in a vial. She also had a memory of a conversation she had had with the greengrocer in her pocket, but it was a weak bit of evidence, and she would only use it if worse came to worst.

It was a shame, she thought, that they couldn’t have brought a Muggle along with them.

“Well – Potter, as you’re here so early, we may as well get started now -,”

Violet interrupted Fudge, “Goodness, we could have started two hours ago, if we had realised you didn’t mind being early. We were here, you know, waiting.”

She could tell there were several members of the Winzengamot who had found her comment amusing, which was very good. It was them who she was convincing. Fudge, on the other hand, had not found her comment quite so amusing.

Fudge squared his shoulders and had started to develop a nice pink tint to his cheek, “You will be, what? The representative, then?”

Grinning, Violet answered, “Yep.” She popped the ‘p’, just because she could, and nodded in Umbridge’s direction, “Shouldn’t you be writing this down?”

Umbridge bristled and looked furious (Merlin’s pants, they were _so_ easy to wind up), “The scribe for the hearing is, Mr. Percival Weasley.”

Now, that caught Violet’s attention. She swivelled her gaze to Mr. Percival Weasley and cocked an eyebrow. He didn’t make eye-contact with her, and Violet nodded with an undeniable drop of her stomach, “Oh? Well, my apologies, Miss Umbridge, it is ‘Miss’, isn’t it?”

“ _Yes -,_ ”

“Good, wouldn’t want to get that wrong now, would I? Anyways, what was I saying? Oh yes, apologies, because you see I thought it would have been the job of the Minister’s secretary, or whatever you said, to write the stuff down,” her voice was not too far off a drawl, and it was riling them up so perfectly, she could hardly believe it. They were making this too easy.

“ _I am Senior Undersecretary to the Minister -,_ ”

“Congratulations; it sounds dead important. Tell me, I’m genuinely interested to know, what is it that you do? Bring him tea, perhaps?”

However, before Umbridge cut respond, Madam Bones cut in, “Shall we get on with the hearing? I do not want to spend longer than the morning on this.”

Violet whispered a ‘go on’ in Harry’s ear and he stood up to move towards the chair, whilst the rest of the group got fully seated. Harry sat down in the chair and Violet stared at the chains on the chair, as though daring them to clamp around his wrists. They didn’t.

“Very well,” announced Fudge, who was, in Violet’s grand opinion, looking very high and mighty in his chair, “Let us begin – Are you ready?”

And Violet tried her hardest not to feel a slither of betrayal seep into her bones when she heard Percy Weasley’s eager, “Yes, sir!” She had known him as a boy of sixteen, and while he had always been rather pompous and it would hardly be a stretch to say up his own arse, but still. Merlin knows what had driven his to be so cruel and callous and just a downright bastard to his own family. And for what, still, pride? Glory? Egoism?

She sat on the bench and looked as disinterested as possible, always a good tactic when facing prideful morons. Until she heard the Fudge’s voice ringing out, “Representative for the defence -,”

“Violet Elizabeth Evans,” finished Violet, now standing. She vaguely noted Percy had stopped writing to look at her, she glanced at him, before looking away, and addressing the matter at hand with her undivided attention.

Fudge stared down at her, albeit a bit flustered, and blustered, “Yes – well – I suppose, you would like a chair – I – Weasley -,”

Violet cut him off, “No – no – no need to panic, Minister, I’ll stand. I’m perfectly capable.” She rested herself, so that her forearms were resting on top of Harry’s chair. She did so staring at Fudge directly – she had always been told she could give quite a piercing stare when she wanted to. ( _It’s the hair and the eyes and the freckles,_ Kingsley had told her once, _all mixed together at once. Positively frightening._ )

“Yes, okay,” said Fudge, shuffling his notes, “So, the charges, then.”

And he listed off the charges, of producing a Patronus in a Muggle inhabited area of Keswick, which was about a solid ten-minute trek from Violet’s house on a motorbike and stupefying a Muggle. He then proceeded to ask Harry, “You are Harry James Potter of -? Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? We have no record of your address, after you left number 4 Privet Drive, on your eleventh birthday.”

Violet looked at him with the most superiorly judgemental look she could muster, and said, lazily, “Well, if that’s ‘just it’, then, I suppose we might be off.”

Fudge looked furious, “This is not a place where you can come and _insult_ -,”

Violet cut him off, again, “Why? What are you going to do? Fire me?”

“This is a _highly respectable law procedure -,_ ”

“You could have bloody well fooled me.” The murmuring from the Winzengamot ceased at Violet harsh words. Her voice had been loud and commanding, not one she had to use often, “Courtroom 10, Fudge, really? For a newly turned fifteen-year-old boy at his _disciplinary hearing_. The same courtroom in which the Lestranges were convicted, where Sirius Black was on trial for thirteen murders. I thought, the Winzengamot had, at least, a slither more grace, than _that._ ”

A few members of the Winzengamot shifted in their seats, and even Fudge had nothing to say to that. Violet took the opportunity to seal her control and seize the flow of conversation, “Back to the matter at hand, though, well, on the matter of Harry Potter’s residence since the age of eleven. Obviously, all of you probably know this, but he lives with me. Under a perfectly sanctioned and legal, Fidelius Charm, which was actually on the agreement terms of the legal battle for me in gaining the custody of one, Harry James Potter. You must remember, Minister, you signed it.”

And so, Violet thought, allowing herself to be smug for just a second, that was one point to her.

Moving swiftly on, Madam Bones said, “There are no known witches or wizards living in the village of Keswick -,”

Violet cut in, rather impatiently, “Other than me, Harry Potter, and as of last year, Sirius Black. Yes, I think we have established this.”

The firm monocle perched on Bones’ nose, shifted slightly in her ire, but before she could continue, Fudge interrupted, “You are fully aware of the laws that specifically prohibit the performance of Magic outside of Hogwarts, whilst under the age of 17?”

“Yes,” said Harry, firmly. Violet was glad to note that his voice hadn’t wavered.

“And yet, you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?”

Harry shifted slightly, “Yes, but -.”

“ _And yet,_ you stupefied a Muggle lady?

“Yes, but -,”

“Knowing you were in an area full of Muggles?”

“Yes,” Harry started angrily, “but I only used it because there were -,”

Bones cut across him, “You produced a fully-fledged Patronus?”

“Yes,” said Harry, “because -,”

“A corporeal Patronus?”

Here, Violet answered, fed up, “Yes, Harry has been able to produce a corporeal Patronus since the age of thirteen. Remus Lupin taught him.”

The Winzengamot began muttering again, and Bones surveyed them from over her monocle, “Since the age of thirteen? That’s very impressive.”

Fudge began tartly, “This is not a matter of how impressive the magic was.” And for once in her life, Violet could say she agreed with Fudge, “In fact, surely you would agree with me, that a corporeal Patronus is worse, on the matter of it being performed in a Muggle inhabited area.”

Harry, who had grown impatient, despite Violet’s warnings, had then said loudly, “I only did it because of the Dementors.” Once again, all murmuring and muttering ceased at these words.

“Dementors? What do you mean, boy?” asked Bones in her booming voice.

“I mean, there were two Dementors that came and attacked me and Sirius,” said Harry. His back was straight, matching Violet’s.

“Sirius? As in, Sirius Black? He was with you too?” queried Bones, looking around the room, as if to see Sirius waiting to give testimony as a witness.

Harry answered, “Yes. But the Dementors – they – they knocked him out, you know, because he spent twelve years in Azkaban.”

Violet didn’t know whether to be proud or concerned at Harry’s snap. It would have been easier if she had made a snap like that, but, ah well, he had already said it, no going back now. Fudge, in his magisterial manner, started laughing, and Violet compared the sight to seeing a clown convulse, “Ah, yes. Yes – yes,” he looked to his left and right, as though he were telling some great gag, “We thought we might hear something like this. How very convenient, eh?”

Violet gave him a strange look, “What? Sirius being knocked out? Or the Dementors being there?”

Truthfully, the whole room knew the answer was ‘both’, but one thing that Harry and Dumbledore’s claim that Voldemort had returned hadn’t deterred was the overwhelming sympathy for Sirius. And even in this room filled with uppity bastards, it would still be an undeniably dangerous thing to admit.

Fudge bristled, “Why? The Dementors, of course. A convenient story, don’t you think?”

Rolling her eyes, Violet interrupted, “Do you really think someone would cast a Patronus in a Muggle inhabited area, just for the hell of it? Are you really that -,” Violet paused, and changed her word choice from ‘stupid’ to, “naïve?”

Here, Harry seemed to have gathered his wits, and said, much to Violet’s happiness, “Well, I don’t know, Violet, I’m round the bend, aren’t I?”

Violet looked down at Harry and hid a smile. She pretended to seriously consider his comment, and hummed, “Hmm, that’s a fair point. Maybe we should get that Healer in to examine you, what was her name? Summerville, or something.”

Seething, Fudge flared his nostrils, and Violet thought he looked rather like an angry rat, “We do not want to hear your theatrics. If you cannot prove that there were Dementors, then we wi -,”

Suddenly, Violet grinned ferally, “ _Aha_ – got you there, haven’t I? Because I can, indeed, prove it.” She moved from her position from Harry’s chair and took her position between Fudge and Harry. Harry should be finished for now, hopefully, if Violet could do her job.

“Then, Evans, where is Black?” asked Fudge haughtily. Although, Violet could definitely detect a bit of uneasiness behind his voice. Good. The bastard should be uneasy.

“At home,” said Violet shortly, as she fished out the memory from her pocket, and the shrunken Pensieve, “He said, he truly saw no point in wasting his time sat in front of fifty-odd morons,” seeing the beginning of ruffled feathers and bristling in the crowd, she held up her hands defensively, “Hey, they were his words not mine. Don’t shoot the messenger, and all that.”

She swivelled slightly to look at Bones, “I am within every right to present evidence in the form of a memory in the event that a witness should chose not to testify, am I not? Section B of the whichever one it is, no?”

Bones nodded as confirmation, “Yes, yes, perfectly true. You are within every right.”

“Excellent!” said Violet cheerily, expanding the Pensieve with her wand. She tipped Sirius’ memory into the basin, and announced to the crowd who were all looking at her curiously, “A memory, taken from Sirius Black, from the events that took place on 2nd August.” Just before she tapped the side of the Pensieve, she muttered, just loud enough for everyone to hear, “I hope you enjoy it. Took a bloody arm and a leg to get it.”

She stepped back and let the memory play, not taking her eyes off Fudge, Bones and Umbridge. The memory faded just as Sirius sank into darkness. It had been long enough to see flashes of Sirius’ worst memories and Violet thought vaguely, that this was just going to add to the sympathy that was fed to Sirius nearly every day.

Looking around, Violet could tell there were a solid portion of the Winzengamot who had been rattled by the memory. Even Fudge looked like his face had sank a bit, although, Violet realised, that this was probably due to the fact that he would have to work a bit harder than he had predicted to get Harry expelled.

Before the imminent question came, she said, “The memory has not been tampered with. You can have it checked if you would like.”

“No – no – I want this over quickly,” said Fudge, face a darker shade of red than it had been before, “This memory of yours – of Black’s – does not dispel the matter of the charges. That Potter broke the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery.”

“Does it not?” asked Violet moving the Pensieve to the side, “Does it not dispel the matter of the charges? Because, you’ll be aware, I’m sure, that clause Seven of the Decree states that in exceptional circumstances, magic may be used in front of a Muggle or Muggles. With those exceptional circumstances including situations which threaten the life of the wizard or witch himself, and, or, the life of any witch, wizard or Muggle present.”

“We are well aware of Clause Seven, thank you very much,” snarled Fudge.

Violet looked at him dead on in the eyes, “I just said that, didn’t I?” No one said anything for a moment, and later on, when Violet thought back to this moment, she realised this was where she had won. She carried on, “So, then, are we all in agreement, that conjuration of Harry’s Patronus, falls into the statement of Clause Seven?”

“If there were Dementors, then yes, however, the story of the Dementors seems to fall into my Clause of doubtful,” said Fudge, and it took Violet a solid few moments to realise that he had been _joking,_ and really, it was only because a couple people had tittered and Umbridge had given a sugary laugh that made Violet want to punch her face.

It was then that Violet laughed too, sharply, “Well, it’s good bloody job you’re not a comedian, isn’t it? You’d do a worse job of that than you’ve done of being Minister for Magic.”

Fudge seemed to turn a deep shade of red, especially as a few members of the crowd couldn’t manage to hold in their laughs. He looked speechless for a moment, before biting out, “We still haven’t covered the fact that he stupefied a Muggle.”

Ah, yes. They still hadn’t covered that.

Violet nodded her head, and agreed, “No, we haven’t. Shall we get on to it then?”

Fudge turned a deeper shade of red, “It is not for you to decide how this court is run.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll wait for you to decide then. Merlin, you’d think this was a murder trial or something.” There we go, her reiteration.

She leaned lazily back on to Harry’s chair, and looked expectantly up at Fudge, who was shuffling his papers about. God, Violet thought she was actually enjoying this.

“Right. So, _so,_ Potter stupefied a Muggle,” said Fudge, after what Violet thought was a recuperation for Fudge’s wits and pride.

“Yes. He did,” confirmed Violet.

“So, you confess then?” asked Fudge, eyes glinting slightly.

“Confess to what, sorry?” questioned Harry, brows furrowing in mock confusion. Violet supressed a snort.

“ _Stupefying a Muggle, boy!_ ” Violet was pretty sure she saw spit fly out of Fudge’s mouth.

“Oh, right! Yes – sorry, I was having a spell of madness. I’m prone to them – wait, do you want me to confess to that too?” Violet’s hand flew to her mouth to hide her proud grin. Now that was her Harry.

Fudge’s hand must have jerked violently and knocked the pot of ink off the stand desk, at which he was sat at. It fell to the floor and smashed, creating a large splash of ink over the floor.

Violet winced, “Oh dear, I hope you didn’t want to write anything down.” She gladly noted round about motion of poorly supressed snorts. Fudge, though, did look livid.

Violet looked at her watch, time was ticking, so she carried on anyway, “There is a very good, and very understandable reason as to why Harry, here, stupefied a Muggle. You see, Harry has just only finished his fourth year at Hogwarts, and so Memory charms have not yet been covered in his lessons. So, you must agree with me here, that performing a simple _Stupefy,_ was surely the best option. An option of letting a Muggle, an elderly Muggle, carry on confused and shaken, or attempting a Memory Charm with the very likely risk of it going wrong and damaging the poor woman’s brain, or stupefying her, and waiting for someone, more advanced, well versed in Memory charms, to sort it out, which I did. For the record.”

 _“You_ did?” asked Fudge.

“Yes, I brought her to my house, where I rennervated her, calmed her down and obliviated her, so that she would think she had witnessed Sirius’ motorbike crash, rather than a dual Dementor attack. I have done that multiple times in my ten years as an Auror, just for the record, again.”

A few moments later, when the majority of hands went up in the air, Violet let herself bask in a moment of pride.

 _Good job, Evans, good bloody job._ And although she was quite surprised to hear the voice come in the form of Alastor Moody’s, she stuffed the shrunken Pensieve back into her pocket and gently touched Harry’s arm, as he stood up, leading him out of the courtroom, before anyone else.


	18. Chapter 18

The smugness that had been covering Violet’s face as she had watched Sirius wrestle with Amber for the better part of half an hour, was now gone. And it had somehow found its way on to Sirius face as he watched her catch her breath from where the ridiculous speed of the motorbike had taken it away.

She looked at him with narrowed eyes, “Horses are better.” The words were smothered with short breaths, but Sirius understood all the same.

He rolled his eyes, “Nah. They’re not.”

Violet stood up and found her legs to be shaking slightly, “I am never, never ever doing that again.”

Sirius looked at her amusedly, “How’re you gonna get back?”

Groaning, Violet sat down on the grass of the wide-open landscape they had found themselves in, “I’ll walk. Apparate. Whatever. Anything but that bloody bike.”

He grumbled and sat down next to her, “I reckon Remus would have been complaining less than this.”

She gave him a half-lidded side stare, “You can take him next time,” she lay back on the grass, “Honestly, you’d think you were racing for your life or something.”

“Yeah – yeah,” muttered Sirius, lying back next to her, “Your just weak.”

Violet kicked his shin, but it didn’t do anything to remove the grin on Sirius’ face.

The August sun was beating down on the two of them, and Violet was well aware that her pale skin was probably roasting under it, but she did nothing to protect herself. It had been stupidly hot that year. Ridiculously so, and Violet’s skin was barely coping as it was.

Sirius interrupted her thoughts with the question of, “So, what are you doing about this teaching thing?”

Violet groaned, as the reality of what she had agreed to came flooding back into thought, “No idea.” She had ended up not setting a textbook for any year, because when she had gone around Flourish and Blotts, she had discovered them all to be utterly useless. However, that now meant that she had to come up with everything herself and it was proving more difficult than she had imagined, “I think I might go in for the practical stuff. You know, like duelling and whatnot.”

He hummed in response, “Glad it’s not me.”

Violet scoffed a laugh, “Just think, I have to spend the whole year with Snape.” She suddenly turned serious and said, in a changed tone, “Harry’s been having nightmares.” She opened her eyes and was momentarily flooded with bright white light. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, “I don’t think I should say anything. I think he’d be embarrassed. It -,”

Sirius sat up too, “Do you want to say anything?”

Violet sighed, “Do I? Not sure. Dunno, I feel like I should, but it doesn’t seem _right._ As in, it feels like what - I don’t know - a parent should do, but I think he’d just hate me for it.”

“He’d never hate you,” said Sirius, who was looking at Violet.

“You know what I mean.” She looked out across the fields, with her vision steadily returning to normal and proclaimed, “God, what a fucking mess.”

What a fucking mess, indeed.

* * *

Never had Violet felt so out of place. Sat in Dumbledore’s office, with all the professors, discussing the coming academic year. She was still placing bets on her ability to just simply wing the entire year as a teacher.

Clearly that wasn’t going to work, especially not now, as all the professors were looking at her expectantly for her to explain what she was going to teach. They were all curious, particularly after she had foregone setting a textbook.

She thought, as she took a deep breath to begin, that this must be what imposter syndrome must feel like.

“Er – well, I was thinking of putting a bit of an emphasis on duelling. I’ve heard a couple bits from Harry about – er – Lockhart’s duelling club, and I just thought that perhaps it would be beneficial for them to learn something…a little less tame.”

“And you are going to do this _without_ a textbook?” asked McGonagall archly.

“Yes,” she smiled a bit, “You know, I’m not _completely_ incompetent.” McGonagall looked at her and Violet saw just a teensy spark of amusement in her whiskey brown eyes. Nevertheless, Violet continued, “Before you ask, I did actually have a look at the textbooks, which is more or less why I haven’t set one. And plus, you can’t learn how to defend yourself against the Dark Arts from a textbook. They don’t – they _can’t_ teach you how to fear fear, how to accept that you may die, that there are moments where any second could be your last, how often you have to run solely off adrenaline, and how sometimes you’re absolutely petrified and that that’s alright, because how else are you going to fight for your life if you’re not terrified -,” she suddenly stopped, realising that she was rambling, and muttered, “Sorry.”

The rest of the room was completely silent, and Violet felt a flush creeping up her neck.

Dumbledore spoke up, much to her aid, with his ever-twinkling eyes, “There is no need to apologise. I have the utmost faith that you will be able to teach the students to an impressive level.”

Violet smiled at Dumbledore gratefully, even though she was starting to heavily doubt any ability she had. It was as though, she had forgotten everything. No, she hadn’t, she tried to comfort herself, she had thought this through many times, it was going to be fine.

* * *

The meeting had ended about half an hour later and Violet had hung about, after all the other Professors had left, intending to speak with Dumbledore. He was sat in chair, and her chair had popped up back in its place, where it had been removed for the purpose of the meeting.

“I believe we have much to talk about,” said Dumbledore, staring at her only partially intensely.

She laughed a bit, “Only a Dark Lord and his horcruxes on our case.” Violet also had the Department of Mysteries to discuss and how that fit in with Harry, because she thought about too much too often, but they would get to that. Big, glaringly obvious problems first.

Dumbledore reached into his desk and pulled out the ring. There was a missive dent in it, and Violet stared at him with wide-eyes, “You did it then? How? Can I touch it?” She didn’t wait for his permission and touched it anyway.

It was cool to her touch, but it didn’t have that stench that the Dark Arts always carried. It was just a ring. She ran her thumb over the stone on the top. It was a strange stone, she decided, and for some reason she felt drawn to it. Weird, definitely weird.

A second passed, where she stared at the stone, then she placed the ring down on Dumbledore’s desk. A slight nauseous feeling overcame her. Definitely weird.

She looked back up at Dumbledore, who was staring at her almost curiously, and asked again, “How did you do it?”

He gestured to the shelf, where the sorting hat was kept, and Violet caught sight of the Sword of Gryffindor, “The Sword of Gryffindor? I thought it had to be fiendfyre or Basilisk – _oh,”_ her eyes were darting about frantically in both excitement and realisation, _“_ – the sword only takes in that which makes it stronger,” she finished no quieter than a whisper. The conversation she had had years ago with Harry, when he had gallivanted off down into the Chamber of Secrets and killed a Basilisk, without telling her.

Dumbledore nodded.

“Right,” whispered Violet, and then she grinned, “Well, that’s another gone.”

“Indeed, it is,” and Dumbledore gave her a smile.

Violet was tempted to ask which one they were going to try for next but ended up refraining herself, as she realised the Dumbledore would let her know when and which one, they were going for. So, instead, she looked up and said, “I’ve – erm – got a couple things to ask you.”

He looked back at her and bowed his head, as if to allow her to ask these question. Violet took in a breath, “The Department of Mysteries. You’ve told us that Voldemort is going to try and get the prophecy – his prophecy. You said that we have to make sure he doesn’t get it, right? That that’s why there’s a rotation guard.” Here, she paused, thinking her words over, “That prophecy -,” she paused again, “It’s not just _his,_ is it?”

At this point, after so much deliberation and wrestling with herself and her mind, she knew the answer already. She knew. Of course, she did. She had known for a long time now. Perhaps she had known even as long ago, as when Lily and James had gone into hiding.

Of course, she fucking knew.

Dumbledore looked older and wearier than ever, but, most notably, he looked sad. There was a sadness in his eyes that Violet had never seen before and it made her stomach sink and her heart pick up its pace, “There was prophecy, made to me, by Sybil Trelawney many years ago.”

If Violet was shocked that Trelawney had made a true prophecy, or that Dumbledore had actually believed in it, she didn’t say nor show anything.

Dumbledore continued, “I was interviewing her, you see, for the Divination role at Hogwarts and mid-way through the interview, where I had drawn the conclusion that she was in no way, shape or form a true seer, even if she was a direct descendant of Cassandra Trelawney, she collapsed into what I thought was a fit, but it wasn’t. It was, I believe, the first time she made a prophecy. The first one out of two, so far. However, once she had told it to me, she had absolutely no recollection of what had happened, and I knew she needed to be protected. It also happened that a young Death Eater should have been spying on my interview with Sybil, who, naturally, hastened to deliver the news to his master. Even if he only heard the first three lines, before my brother found him and shooed him out.”

Violet gave him an intense stare, trying to make sense of it all, “And this prophecy? It said – what? That either Harry or Neville would bring about his downfall?” It had been the conclusion that she had managed to draw up by herself, in the dead of night, as she thought more and more about Harry’s position in this war.

About how much he meant to Voldemort. About why he meant so much to him.

“You have been thinking this through,” observed Dumbledore, peering at her over his half-moon spectacles.

For a fleeting second, she laughed slightly and said, “You know, I’m not completely incompetent.”

Dumbledore hummed, “Not completely, no.”

She laughed a bit heavier this time, “If I wasn’t so dependent on you for parenting advice, I would kidnap you and throw you into a ditch somewhere, save Voldemort all the hassle.”

This time Dumbledore smiled a bit more cheerily – a bit more naturally, “And Minerva should probably endeavour to help you, you would be saving everyone the hassle then.”

They fell into a small silence, not uncomfortable, just a silence. Violet broke it first, “I’m going to tell Harry about the prophecy. He has to know,” she said firmly. Violet continued, “Will you let him hear it? You must have the memory, right? It was told to you -,” she stopped herself from the beginning of another rambling.

“I am afraid that he will have to hear it,” said Dumbledore gravely, “Otherwise, he will be at the centre of a war with absolute ignorance.”

Violet almost breathed a sigh of relief, “Okay – okay – right, well, we’ve got all year, and I’ll be right here.”

Dumbledore’s eyes were once again twinkling, and Violet found herself under the impression that the main reason he had actually offered her the teaching role was because he needed her within a few corridors of his office.

* * *

Violet was stood in the shower, a few hours after she had returned from her meeting with her to-be fellow Professors (Merlin, what a weird thought). She had always found the shower to be an excellent place for her to think straight, as though the water washed away the shrouded stress and worry and confusion that often shrouded her problems and left her with just the problem itself.

Because then it wasn’t really a problem at all.

And at the current time and place, she had a lot of bloody problems.

She tipped her head back, so her hair was fully submersed underneath the hammering hot water.

First and foremost, there was the ever-present problem of Harry – her nephew, who really felt like something much closer to her heart than that. Nephew felt like the correct term to describe her other nephew, Dudley; someone that she rarely saw, and had had a grand total of about two conversations with. But not Harry. No. Harry was – he was everything to her – he was the reason her world hadn’t stopped spinning.

He was also the biggest problem she had ever faced. In that, how was she supposed to behave? Had they ever established boundaries over what they could speak to each other about? Did that mean there were no boundaries? Or did that mean that invasive questions about dead friends and guilt and nightmares was a boundary that went without saying?

That plus all the other crap that was strung to the name of Harry Potter.

She reminded herself as she lathed shampoo into her scalp, that at least he hadn’t been expelled. That was always a positive. And at least he wasn’t dead. That was an even bigger positive, because there had been plenty of chance for that – which only meant that where would be many more chances for that.

And then, this prophecy. She had decided not to listen to it today, in Dumbledore’s office, because she felt as though it was right for Harry to be the first person, outside of Dumbledore, that Death Eater and Voldemort to hear it.

Tipping her head back again, she thought of the conversation she would need to have with Harry and Sirius and Remus about the godforsaken prophecy, but that wasn’t the worst problem.

No. In fact, it was a very minor problem on her massive list.

The biggest problem, and she felt her stomach drop with the reality of it, was that she fancied Sirius.

She felt her face cringe with the realisation and the admittance. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to wash out the suds of shampoo that were in every nook and crevasse of her thick pile of hair.

How had that even happened? She asked herself, how had she managed to let herself fancy Sirius?

_Sirius._ James’ bloody best friend. Sirius, who had known her since she was bloody eleven-years-old. Sirius, who would never, not in a million years, fancy her back, because she was pretty sure, he was yet to see her as a woman nearing thirty than a girl edging fifteen.

Violet ran both of her hands down her face and clenched her teeth. She was so fucking pathetic. So fucking pathetic. It was all so fucking pathetic.

She thought, as she switched the shower off and stepped out into her bathroom, wrapping her towel around herself, that at least she wasn’t in love with him. That she was sure of.

Slipping down to the ground where she sat on the floor, towel wrapped securely around her, Violet closed her eyes. No. She wasn’t in love with him. Albeit she had never been in love, but she just knew. She loved Sirius sure, as a part of her family, as someone who had looked out for her and looked after her when she had been young, and as a person who had just somehow fallen into her little life. But she wasn’t _in love_ with him. Not yet, anyway.

Violet muffled a groan into her towel. She was so stupid. So, so, so, so, so stupid. She was an absolute fool and an idiot and so fucking stupid.

Her mind flew back to memories, instances where she might have felt attraction for another person, just so she could compare and try and confirm to herself that she wasn’t, in fact, lying to herself also.

But there were none. She had never dated; she had never been in love and she had never felt anything other than platonically for someone.

She wasn’t a virgin though, which made her laugh. Although it was more of a desperate laugh than one of amusement.

She had had sex once and hated every second. She had found no pleasure in sex. And still nearly eleven years later, she had no desire to seek a sex life. And though, even she would admit, her foray into sex had been a bad representation of what it was probably like for the majority of people, every time she thought of it, she was reminded of _him._

The man she had let take her virginity.

Violet didn’t even know his name. She couldn’t even remember what he looked like, and it made another desperate laugh escape her lips. She remembered convincing herself that she didn’t care; that her virginity meant nothing to her and that it didn’t bother her.

But that had been before she had been trapped. Trapped underneath him. He had been sweaty. So sweaty, and she hadn’t been drunk enough. She had thought she had been. But she hadn’t. She hadn’t been drunk enough to not feel the pain, both where it should have hurt and in her chest from where she had come to the realisation that she had fucked up badly, that she had made a mistake.

She had felt it; she could still feel it, if she thought hard enough, the pain, the sweat, the disregard for her, his hand around her neck, the heat, the way he had _trapped her_ , _encased_ her.

A shiver of disgust ran down her spine in remembrance.

The next morning, when she had managed to get back to her own flat, where she had been living in London at the time, and when she had bit down on her arm to silence her sobs as she scrubbed herself in the shower, she had sworn: _never again._

And never again had she.

* * *

It was about an hour later, after Violet had dragged herself up from the floor and dressed herself and drawn up the courage to initiate the conversation of the prophecy between herself and the three other members of her family.

Her hair was wrung tightly in a bun, that she like to put her hair in after she washed it, because it made nice waves (which was probably the most superficial thing that she allowed herself to take some joy in) and not a moment earlier, she had finished cleaning the living room, even if it only took a few seconds with magic, she liked to pride herself on not being a complete slob.

Violet had wrestled with about the five million different way that she could start the conversation, but nothing seemed right, and so, she just started speaking – begin at the beginning and end at the end, “Right – er – you know how the Order has a rotation guard for the Hall of Prophecies, because Dumbledore believes that Voldemort has a prophecy and that he’s after it?”

Suddenly, she was struck with the thought that maybe it would be better not to tell Harry – no. Violet stopped herself; he would hate that more, she reminded herself.

Remus, Sirius and Harry all nodded and hummed in confirmation, and Violet turned her gaze to Harry, “I – have you ever thought about, you know, _why_ Voldemort sought you out in the first place? About why he was so interested?”

She could tell that Remus and Sirius had caught on, probably because she had actually known for a long time, just like her, but never had the bravery to admit it to themselves, just like her, because there had been a possibility that they were wrong, that hopefully everything had just been a massive mistake. Except there was no possibility now.

“I mean, yeah, sure. But I don’t –,”

Violet cut him off, sitting back on the sofa, “Tyrants don’t just go slaughtering babies that have no meaning to them, they pick and choose their enemies and take them out one by one. So, just imagine yourself as a tyrant, as Voldemort, and say that you heard a prophecy that proclaimed your downfall was held within a boy, a baby. Well, better take him out now, before he gets older and actually has a chance at killing you. He’s just a baby, and you’re the most powerful dark wizard for a century, it’ll be a quick job, done and dusted within an hour.”

Harry was silent and Violet waited cautiously for his reaction. She didn’t look at Remus or Sirius, just because she couldn’t be bothered to try and communicate something with them: what was she supposed to say?

Finally, Harry said, “So, the prophecy is about me as well?”

Nodding her head, Violet replied, “Yes – yeah, it is.”

“What does it say, specifically?” asked Harry.

She shook her head, “No idea, Dumbledore’ll tell you at some point soon – he’s the only one that knows the full contents of it. It doesn’t change anything, you know.”

Harry’s brow furrowed at her words, “It does change quite a few things.”

Violet shook her head again, “Of course, it doesn’t. You’d be following the same ignorant line of thought that Voldemort has taken if you did.”

Harry still looked confused and Violet carried on, “Look, think about it like this, if Voldemort had never heard the first three lines of the prophecy, if he hadn’t known of its existence, do you think he would have sought you out? No, of course not. Do you think he would have needed to murder James and Lily to try and get to you? Do you think your life would have panned out the same way that it has? No, of course not. It’s only a prophecy because Voldemort made it so. He made an enemy out of you because he killed your parents. Even if there was no prophecy, even if he wasn’t trying to come after you, you would still want justice, right? Because he killed your parents, he’s the reason your childhood was so crap. You’d want to kill him anyway. Prophecy or not.”

“Yes, but -,” interrupted Harry, but Violet interrupted him.

“There’s no ‘but’, Harry. The prophecy doesn’t mean shit.” She paused, struggling to get the wording of what she wanted to say right.

Sirius took over instead, “I think what Violet’s trying to get at is that you just need to think for a moment. Just think how you felt this morning, or even an hour ago, before you knew about the prophecy. Right? Voldemort, the man who murdered you parents, not a month ago murdered your friend, Cedric, the man who murdered so many people, and he keeps seeking you out, because he _believes_ in the prophecy. But Violet’s right: the prophecy doesn’t mean shit. Whatever it says, whatever it says will happen, doesn’t mean shit. A prophecy doesn’t set in stone the way a person’s life will run. They’re vague and ambiguous because they don’t mean anything. They’re just one possible outcome if a very specific sequence of events follows through.”

Harry still wasn’t taking it, “So, what does it mean then?”

“Absolutely nothing,” said Remus, now joining in, “As Sirius said, a prophecy doesn’t set anything in stone. You could run away to the mountains of Russia, never come back, and let someone else kill Voldemort – if that’s what the prophecy says -,”

“Which it most likely does,” added Violet, and Remus nodded.

“And nothing would happen. But just think, for a moment, about what you want. Voldemort keeps seeking you out and you want nothing more in the world to…?”

“To be the one to kill him,” muttered Harry, finally understanding what the three adults were getting at.

Violet sat back, “Exactly. You would want to kill him for killing James and Lily and Cedric, for making your life so utterly miserable and for making everyone else’s the same.” She paused and let the conversation sink into each of their brains, before saying, “Whatever that prophecy says. Whatever it says you _have_ to do, or what _will_ happen, just know, that one, it doesn’t mean shit,” they all laughed slightly at her words, “and two, that all of us,” she gestured to the three of them, “will be there with you every step of the way.”

“Unless one of us dies,” added Sirius at the end.

Violet looked at him, and smiled sarcastically, “I don’t know how we cope, if I’m honest, with all your cheerfulness.”

Harry watched them both begin to bicker back and forth, and thought, making eye contact with Remus, that he could never have asked for a better three people to live and kill a Dark Lord with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say that over the next few weeks my updates are probably going to be a bit slower, but I'll try and get them out as quickly as possible. Many apologies, but you can blame my school, for giving us exams, and my mum for embedding it in my brain that I have to get like 110% on every test. Thank you! :)) 
> 
> (also, I don't like to advocate political stuff and I don't intend to make a habit out of it, but thank you, thank you, thank you America. I'm not American, but thank you, on behalf of the rest of the world.)


	19. Chapter 19

It was two nights before Harry, and now Violet, were due to leave for Hogwarts that Violet had decided she had had enough. That she had heard enough creaking from Harry’s bed at four o’clock in the morning.

So, it was four o’clock in the morning when Violet got out of her own bed, silently opened the drawer on her bedside table, and fished out a phial of sleeping draught.

She crept across the hall, although she knew the entire house was awake, and stepped into Harry’s room. Narrowly missing the t-shirt that was strewn on the floor, Violet had to push the want to nag Harry about cleaning his room before they left out of her mind.

Harry was looking at her, albeit blurrily, as she quietly entered his room. Violet whispered a, “Hiya.”

“Hello,” said Harry, his voice was shakier than he had thought, and he prayed that Violet hadn’t noticed.

Violet sat down on his bed and ran a hand through his hair. Harry felt emotion building up in his chest, as the action made him feel like he was eleven again, so, so happy to have someone checking on him, someone loving him, someone caring about him; everything he had dreamed of in the cupboard.

It was then that Harry realised she knew – Violet knew – because of course she did. How could she not? He was always so obvious.

But she wasn’t laughing at him, or punishing him for it, no – of course she wouldn’t, she could never, Harry reminded himself. No. Instead she just spoke to him like as adult, like she loved him, like having nightmares was perfectly normal.

She said, “If you ever – if they ever – If you’re just tired, you can take this.” She put the phial on his bedside table, and she looked at him, not pityingly, just understandingly and it made the emotions in Harry’s chest swell even more.

“Thank you,” Harry said it so quietly that he was certain Violet hadn’t heard him.

If she had or hadn’t, she didn’t say, rather she just placed a kiss on his forehead – not on his scar, never on his scar – and said again, “If you want another, just ask, I’ve got loads, ‘kay?”

He didn’t verbally reply, just nodded.

She looked at him for a moment and Harry was very consciously aware of the fact that he was another swell of emotion away from crying. But, luckily, Violet said no more on the matter, and just looked around his room, where even in the dark she could see the mess, “Your room’s a tip.”

And it was such a normal thing to say, that Harry found himself laughing (not crying, thankfully), “It wasn’t me,” he denied.

Even in the dark, Harry saw the spark of amusement alight in the eyes so similar to his, “No? Well, m’afraid it’ll be you cleaning it up.” She stood up and this time she did trip, but not on a t-shirt, rather a tub of broomstick polish. Violet picked it up and held it up to a laughing Harry, “You gonna tell me why there’s broomstick polish by your bed?”

Suddenly, Harry wasn’t laughing, and he was whispering, well, stuttering so quickly and furiously, that Violet was laughing, “I – it wasn’t – it’s not – I would never – stop laughing! It’s not funny – I didn’t -.”

Violet was still grinning teasingly at him, “Yeah – yeah – alright, Mr. Boy-Who-Lived, you’ve got till tonight to clean up this mess.” She threw him the polish, and added, grin still present, “I mean, you could have at least hidden it -,”

“I didn’t – I -,” he groaned quietly with frustration, “You’re so annoying.”

Violet laughed again, heading towards the door, “That’s my job.”

* * *

“Don’t get fired,” said Sirius, giving his final useful piece of advice, “and don’t kill any kids.”

Violet smiled, “Got it.” She tapped her trunk with her wand and watched as the accustomed pop sounded, and then picked up the now tiny-looking case and put it into her bag. She hollered up the stairs, “Harry, you ready?”

“Yeah, just a second,” the muffled call came back.

Remus was watching from the living room doorway, and Violet turned to him, “You got any last-minute pieces of advice?”

“Patience is key,” he said smiling.

“Well, I’m fucked then.”

“You’ll be fine,” he stressed, a small smile on his worn features.

Harry came semi-stumbling down the staircase, massive trunk in hand, looking very much like it hadn’t been packed properly at all. He looked slightly bashful at the sight of three adults staring up at him, “My stuff just doesn’t fit.”

“It’ll be fine, we’ll be there in a minute anyway,” said Violet, shrugging on her coat, as Harry squashed his feet into his worn trainers (no matter how many times Violet insisted, Harry would always tell her he didn’t want new trainers. Something about them being comfortable just the way they were.)

“Feels weird, not getting the train,” commented Harry.

“Yeah?” asked Violet, “What about second year?” She remembered getting to the train station and realising that the platform had sealed up, so she had taken Harry to Hogwarts by herself and told Dumbledore to sort his platform out.

(Turns out there were over-excited, over-protective and overtly worried House Elves on their case.)

“Alright,” he began to correct himself, “feels weird that you’re coming too.”

Suddenly, Violet laughed, “Not gonna be embarrassed, are you? What with me being there?”

Clasping a hand over his heart, Harry gasped, “I could never! You’re the most amazing -,”

Sirius interrupted, “Yeah, yeah, alright, mate. Enough of that, otherwise she’ll get testy -,”

This time Violet interrupted, “Oi, she’ll get testy as it is.” She pointed to Harry and then gestured towards the door, “Out.”

“Yes, Professor.”

Sirius barked a laugh, “You’ll last three days tops. Bet.”

“And you’ll last three days tops with Amber. Bet,” challenged Violet.

Remus just looked at them and wondered how it felt like no time and all the time in the world had passed.

* * *

“Right – sorry, I’m late,” announced Violet as she shut the door behind her. It was now about three days into term, and it would have been an accurate to say that Violet was gaining quite the reputation, and no one was more curious to see the esteemed Auror teaching than Harry Potter himself.

The fifth year class, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, turned around to face Violet – or should Harry have said: Professor Evans – looking rather flustered as she entered the Defence classroom. She looked at them all as she made her way to the desk, perching herself on it.

“I was – er – just having a rather… heated conversation with Sniv – er – Professor Snape. That’s why I was late,” explained Violet, running her eyes over the class, taking them in one by one.

Seamus spoke for the entire class’ curiosity, “What happened?”

Suddenly, Violet grinned, one of her more menacing, more frightening ones, Harry thought, and said, “Can’t tell you that, can I? Teacher policy and whatnot,” she folded her arms over her chest, “Right – OWL year.” Violet spoke over the accustomed groans at the reminder, “I know, I know, all the teachers have probably begun like that. But – and you’ll need to listen -,” the class quietened to listen, “But they are important, particularly Defence, every job likes to see a good Defence mark, whether you want to be a Hit Wizard or a – I don’t know – bar tender.”

Harry noted that she had the entire class listening intently, she had them, and there was something about it that made Harry feel like he really didn’t want to share the one thing _he_ had in the world. The slightly petty part of him wanted to keep Violet all to himself.

Violet carried on, “I spent an almost embarrassing amount of time thinking about how to go about teaching this, particularly with what I want you to get out of learning how to defend yourself against the dark arts – because that’s what this is, you know: learning to live, not just learning how to pass an exam.”

“So, right – I’ll stop waffling – what I’m gonna do is this: these lessons are going to all be practical. No amount of reading is going to help you survive in a battlefield, but what will prepare you is experience. And, although, nothing I’ll ever be able to teach you in this classroom will prepare you for the moments, the seconds, that could be your last. Nothing can prepare you for that. I mean, it would be impossible: you can’t recreate – you _can’t teach_ \- that feeling,” Violet stopped herself before she started waffling again, “But what I can prepare you for is limiting those moments, which is why these lessons are going to be primarily focused on duelling.”

She clapped her hands together, “I’ve heard a bit about Lockhart’s duelling club from a couple of years ago, which sounds like it was … eventful, if my sources are anything to go by,” the class gave a few laughs and turned to Harry in the strange way that teenagers do, Violet persevered, “So yeah, what’ve I missed? Oh! Right, and for homework’s and stuff, I’ll set you exam technique things and then pull you over individually or in groups to discuss anything you might be doing glaringly wrong. Er – yeah – I think that’s it, any questions before we begin?” She looked around the room again, and when no hands were raised, her final thought flew into her brain, “Oh and just to say, this isn’t a politics class. I don’t care if you think Voldemort is back or not. I don’t care if you would rather wipe your arse with the Prophet or frame it above your bed. I don’t care, alright? So, I don’t want to hear it in this classroom. Discuss it somewhere else.”

Violet checked her watch, “Shall we get started then?”

* * *

“How was that?” asked Violet to Harry as he helped her move the desks back into their orderly fashion.

“Eh – was alright,” said Harry. Violet looked at him dryly, and Harry expanded, “I mean, you were late. How many decent teachers are late to their lessons? None, exactly.”

Violet laughed a little, tucking her wand back up her sleeve, “I’ll have you know; I was late because I was speaking to _your_ headmaster about _your_ problems, still a guardian, you know.”

“Really?” said Harry in slight surprise, “I thought you said -,”

“Yeah – yeah, I know what I said,” Violet replied waving her hand dismissively, “We have a meeting. On Sunday morning. 11, don’t be late. Got it?”

“Is it about -?”

“Of course, it’s about that,” Violet shoved a note into his hand, “That’s for Flitwick to explain why your late. Now, shoo. I’ve got some third years to teach.”

* * *

It was the first weekend of term that Violet broke. She had amounted a marking pile to about the height of a desk from all years from all different houses, when she realised she had no idea how to mark. She stared at the work of a fourth year Ravenclaw, pen in hand, reading the first line of his answer to the question of: _To what extent is offensive attacking more effective than defensive protection in a duel_ , before she stood up abruptly and grabbed the papers in her arm and marched out of the door, one destination solely in mind.

She barged in the door of her old Head of House, not bothering to knock, more or less because her hands weren’t free enough. McGonagall looked at her, from where she was going through some forms or something, and raised an eyebrow, “Evans, have you ever heard of the saying: it’s polite to knock?”

“Yeah – a couple times, I think – I – erm – I – I can’t do it,” said Violet, peering at the woman over the pile of parchment.

“You may have to be more specific than that,” replied McGonagall dryly.

“I can’t mark. I can’t – I don’t – I don’t know what – how to – to do it,” she finished somewhat pathetically. She was an Auror, her mind was built for fighting not _marking_. She was not a teacher; she was just posing as one.

McGonagall checked her watch, “It’s still rather early, Evans -,”

“I’m out this afternoon.”

“Out where?”

“Just…out. I can do that, right? I’m allowed out, aren’t I?”

“Of course, you’re allowed out,” said McGonagall exasperatedly, “This isn’t the sort of establishment where we chain our employees to the desks and make them work. I just thought, perhaps, you might have been doing something for the Order.”

“Oh, well, that’s good to know,” said Violet, abashed. She felt a hot flush creeping up her neck, “It’s not – er – for the Order. I’m just going… out.”

“So you have said.”

“Right, so will you – can you help me do this?” she gestured to the many papers still stacked precariously in her arms.

“Sit down, Evans,” McGonagall gestured to the chair in front of her desk, and Violet felt a huge wave of relief wash over her.

* * *

When Violet walked back into her home, she was greeted not by any human, but rather by a massive, black shaggy dog. It made a smile worm on to her face, as she bent down to greet Padfoot in return, “Hey,” she scratched Padfoot behind his ear, and her smile turned into a grin when his tongue lolled out and he barked at her, “Moony gone home?”

Padfoot barked again, and Violet took that to mean a ‘yes’.

Suddenly, Sirius appeared in front of her, as she stood up again, “You’re back soon. Teaching broke you already?”

Violet laughed and started walking up the field to her horses, “Nah, I’m fine, what about you? Amber broke _you_ already?”

“Nah,” said Sirius, following her, “I’m fine, but I – er -,” Violet tuned to him as he stopped abruptly.

A small, confused smile fell on to her face, “You what?” For probably the first time in her life, she saw a red flush appear on his cheeks, and she felt her smile grow, “What is it? I won’t laugh, I swear.” A pointless promise.

“Well – er – are the two of them a – are they… partners?” asked Sirius, red tints darkening. And it was then that Violet burst into laughter, realising what must have happened. Sirius huffed at the sight of her laughing, “I thought you swore not to laugh.” His comment only made Violet laugh harder, “It’s not my fault. You never told me that would happen. Came outside the other morning and bam, that’s what I saw. And then – er – they seemed a bit angry that I -,”

Violet finished, “Interrupted?” and then burst out laughing all over again, head resting on Sirius’ shoulder to stop herself from falling over.

“Yeah – yeah – alright, laugh it up,” said Sirius, rolling his eyes, but Violet could hear the amusement in his voice.

Eventually, once Violet had sobered up, she explained, through breathless laughs, “They are – partners, I mean, but before I got them, the guy told me where to take Ebony to get him a vasectomy, but he basically explained that that wouldn’t deter the drive, especially because they’re obviously the only two here so, you know, there’s not much option for Ebony, or Amber. They’ve gotta work with what they’ve got, I guess.”

They walked up the field together and Violet carried on, “But yeah, normally, you just sort of leave them to get on with it, let them to get it out of their system.” She huffed another laugh at the thought of Sirius panicking when he found the horses going at it.

“I mean, a warning would’ve been nice,” said Sirius and Violet laughed again.

“I forgot,” she exclaimed defensively, “It’s usually around mid-summer, August-time, that they do it. Must be late this year, dunno why.”

Sirius watched her as she went up to Ebony, standing a couple metres back, “Well, I won’t be forgetting anytime soon,” he muttered. Then he swiftly changed the subject, “What are you doing here then? Thought you said you wouldn’t be back till next week.”

She turned back around, “Yeah, I know, but basically, Tonks wanted to speak to me – I don’t know – she said she wanted to get drunk and have a good whinge about her problems, so that’s where I’m going. Don’t worry, I won’t get drunk, and neither will she, if I have anything to do about it,” she hoisted herself up on the back of the horse, and led it to Sirius, who stepped back a couple steps.

Violet laughed, “Who would’ve thought, of all the things Sirius Black was scared of it would’ve been a horse.” She held out her hand, “Come on, I’ve got till about five till Tonks wants me, I’ll show you how to ride one properly.”

“I dunno if you remember, but the last time I got on one of your bloody horses I ended up on the ground,” said Sirius, arms folded.

“I do remember, actually, was hilarious, but that’s because you panicked, they don’t like it when the rider panics: it makes them panic. Look, get on the behind me, my arm is starting to ache,” Violet practically ordered.

“Fine,” grumbled Sirius, and he hoisted himself up, in a way, that even Violet would admit, was rather graceful for someone who found the actual riding part so difficult.

Violet’s grin was probably as wide as her mouth would let it stretch.

* * *

“We’re getting drunk,” announced Tonks, as she dragged Violet through the door of her flat.

“ _We_ are not doing that until you at least tell me why,” said Violet in reply.

Tonks turned around to her and gestured manically, “You know bloody well why.” She then carried on into the kitchen, or what looked like a kitchen anyway.

“Do I?” asked Violet cautiously, stepping fully into the kitchen, to watch Tonks pull out the firewhisky, before swiftly taking it out of Tonks’ hands and putting back down on the counter.

Tonks pouted, “You’re no fun.”

“No, I’m not,” agreed Violet, “But I have a job and a nephew that require me to be fully sober on all occasions, and you also have a job and an Order to work for, which also require you to be fully sober at all times.”

Tonks grumbled, “The Order this, and the Order that, does anyone ever talk about anything fucking else?”

“Alright, cut the shit, Tonks, you’re not a teenager. What’s wrong?” asked Violet impatiently. Realisation then hit her like a brick, and she said hesitantly, “It’s not Remus, is it?”

“Of course, it’s fucking Remus,” said Tonks irately and Violet raised an eyebrow at the tone. Tonks looked at her, “Don’t look at me like that. At least you have _a chance_ with Sirius.”

“Woah – woah – bloody hell, hang on. That took a quick turn. Hang on, look, I’m starving, can we -?” she pulled open the door to Tonks’ fridge to promptly find nothing and mumbled, “Of course, you have nothing in your fridge. Right, d’you wanna go out?”

“Yeah, alright, but you can pay,” said Tonks.

Violet snorted, “I picked such good friends.”

“It’s not my fault I’m broke.”

“Er – yes, it is.”

“Shut up, Mrs. Highest-Paid-Auror.”

“ _Former_ Auror,” corrected Violet, as she shut the flat door behind her, following her ridiculous friend’s bright hair.

* * *

“…have you finally admitted it to yourself, then?” asked Tonks. The two of them were sat, eating chips and cokes at the nearest McDonalds they could find, plans to get roaringly drunk flown out the window.

“Have I admitted what to myself?” asked Violet in reply, knowing full well what Tonks had been talking about.

“That you fancy the shit out of Sirius,” answered Tonks matter-of-factly.

“I don’t _fancy the shit out of him_ -,” noting Tonks’ raised eyebrow, Violet added, “I fancy him a bit.”

“ _A bit_ ,” deadpanned Tonks, “ _a bit._ Mate, have you seen yourself making googly eyes at -?”

“Fuck off; no, I don’t,” exclaimed Violet harshly. “Mate, have you seen _yourself_ -?”

Her rebuttal was interrupted by Tonks muttering, “Yeah, well, that won’t be happening anymore.”

“What? Why? What’s Remus done? Or, what has he not done?” asked Violet, eyebrows raised, chips in hand.

Tonks sighed, a marked change of emotion, as she looked almost defeated in Violet’s eyes, “I don’t – it’s not – I might have been a bit too… forward, if you know what I mean. I think I scared him off.”

“You won’t have,” Violet was quick to deny, but then realised it would probably be better to be fully honest, she said, “Okay, so maybe you did. Just a little. But what was is that you actually did?”

“I didn’t _do_ anything. I just said it.”

“What did you say?” asked Violet, almost curiously.

Tonks scowled, but Violet suspected she was angrier at herself than at Violet or Remus, for that matter, “It was just a passing comment; are you really gonna make me say it?” At Violet’s unimpressed stare, she scowled again, “Fine! Fine! I told him that I could take him out to dinner whenever he wanted, because we were talking about food and stuff, and how you, Sirius and him are awful cooks, and - _will you stop laughing!_ ” hissed Tonks, “ _It’s not funny.”_

Violet tried to supress her laughs, she truly did, but then again, some things were easier said than done, “It is a little bit. I mean, you’ve gotta laugh about it, otherwise you’ll go mad.” She began to laugh a little harder, “You had one chance, mate. One fucking chance. And you fucking blew it.”

Tonks huffed, and looked like she too was trying very hard to supress her laughs at herself, “You know him well. Go on, be a good friend, tell me what to do.”

Stopping laughing and returning to seriousness, Violet deliberated, “I mean, you’ve got two options. One: you could leave the Order and, well, Britain really, and never show your face again, because _bloody hell_ , I think I’m embarrassed for you -.”

Looking totally unimpressed, Tonks said, “I asked you to be _helpful_. I’m having a mid-life crisis, here.”

“- Or two:” Violet spoke over her friend, “be honest with him. Chin up and bear it kind of thing. He’s so bloody stubborn. And so, self-pitying that you’re just gonna have to be upfront.” She popped another couple fries into her mouth, “At least you’re dealing with Remus. He’ll be nice about rejection. You know, if it all goes to pot, at least he’ll be nice about it.”

“You think Sirius would be mean about it?” questioned Tonks.

“Dunno. Probably. Not intentionally though. It’s just how he is, you know, not…great with emotions and that kind of shite.”

Tonks hummed, “That’s what you like about him though, as well as his sense of humour, the fact he escaped Azkaban for you and Harry, his looks -,” Tonks listed them on her fingers and Violet sat back in the chair, as some man walked past their table.

“Yeah, well, I won’t be finding out how Sirius goes about rejecting someone,” muttered Violet.

“You mean you’re not gonna tell him?” queried Tonks, not as surprised as Violet thought she might have been.

“Nope. Ignorance is bliss, darling. Ignorance is a fucking bliss. Besides, there’s too much shit happening now. I’ve got Harry and, like, a fair few hundred kids to worry about; teaching Defence is harder than it bloody looks. And then there’s the Order and thingy and the messes he’s making,” Violet gestured at Tonks with a chip, who was looking at her a gaze to say, she had no idea what Violet was on.

“Thingy,” quoted Tonks dryly, “Who’s ‘thingy’?”

“You know,” she gestured more violently.

Tonks smirked at her friend, “Say it. Go one: _cave_.” She looked around and saw some Muggles looking over in their direction, and her smirk grew, “Say it. I dare you. I won’t think less of you, you know, if you do say it.”

Violet huffed, and popped the chip into her mouth, and said shortly, “No.”

“You’re so fucking proud, honestly. Gryffindors.”

Violet rolled her eyes, and replied, “And you’re so fucking _weak,_ honestly. Hufflepuffs.”

“Hey! You take that back; you take that back right now! Hufflepuffs aren’t weak, take me for an example,” Tonks half whispered, half shouted incredulously, mindful of their Muggle location.

The two bickered back and forth, and they went on until Violet left back for Hogwarts, at about nine that night, stomach full of chips and coke, and brain full of happiness.

She thought later that night in her new Hogwarts bed, that she was yet to get used to, about whether it would actually be _that_ awful to tell Sirius. But then, the thought still made her cringe and she felt, eyes darting about the dark castle ceiling, mortified for the conditional-self that she had conjured up in her brain, one who had had the courage, only to be rejected in a manner so harsh, Violet could feel it in her very chest.

Yeah – there was no way in _hell_ , no matter how persistent Tonks would be.

No way in hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand I'm back. exams are done, and so thank you for being patient, it's nearly been a whole bloody month. One thing the break has been good for though, is that I've now got a clearer path on what I want the end for this story to be, and how i'm going to get there - it's better than the plan I had in place before, if that's any consolidation.
> 
> So, once again, thank you for reading, and I hope you stick around. Cheers :)


	20. Chapter 20

“Occlumency,” stated Harry, testing the word out on his tongue.

Violet turned to look at Dumbledore, “You think this…the,” she struggled to find the word, as she found it to stick slightly in her throat, “connection, or whatever it is, is really that –,” she took a breath, “you think that Voldemort will be able to read the memory and learn the contents of the prophecy from there?” She finished in a tone that showed she thought it to be unlikely – who had even heard of such a connections?

Dumbledore seemed to deliberate how best to give his response, before saying, “I do not know for certain, and that is why I believe we at least take the precautionary methods.”

“I know,” Violet was quick to agree, “I know, but it’s just – you need eye contact for legilimency,” she carried on before Dumbledore could form the inevitable rebuttal for her point, “and even if it’s not legilimency he’s using, then why will occlumency work?”

“Ah, see Violet, I do believe you have just hit the nail perfectly on the head,” said Dumbledore, which was certainly not the response Violet was expecting, “For it is not so much legilimency I would like Harry to be protected against, though, I am sure, it will be a very valued bonus of protection.” Both Violet and Harry knew this already, but neither interrupted and let Dumbledore finish with patience, “The art of occlumency is compartmentalisation, separating memories and storing them in an order. And so, even though I, as you so ruefully pointed out to me Violet, do not know the extent of the connections, I still have no doubt that should Harry be able to learn to compartmentalise, in other words, learn occlumency, we shall all be safer.”

Violet narrowed her eyes, and stated lightly, “Which I think could be translated as, that we are not going to hear this prophecy until Harry becomes a master Occlumens.” She spoke in a manner that she had never used in front of Dumbledore before, and she could tell all members of the room were slightly shocked by, the paintings especially, as the murmuring grew in its volume. Though, Violet was inclined to believe that Dumbledore had probably been expecting a response like that.

Harry looked affronted, as he could tell that Violet had been right, “So I’m not allowed to hear it until I can do occlumency? And you’re making Snape teach me?” He sounded suspiciously like he was trying very hard to supress his anger.

“Professor Snape, Harry,” corrected Dumbledore, “and yes to both, I am afraid. As I have already explained, Professor Snape is a master in the art of occlumency and will teach you to the very best of his ability.” Somehow, Violet knew that it was not just Harry and herself out of the three of them who didn’t believe that. But, Violet supposed, she didn’t know any other masters of occlumency just hanging about ready to teach boys connected to Lord Voldemort. “And unless I am sure of some other form of protection that will work, then I believe it to be the only way we can ensure our upper hand against Voldemort.”

Dumbledore was good, Violet would certainly give him that, but he wasn’t good enough to oppress Harry fully. No. Violet didn’t think anyone was. For she didn’t think that once Harry was set on knowing something anything would be able to appease him.

Sitting back in her chair, Violet regarded Dumbledore. She stared for a moment and then a moment longer, before she stood up abruptly, eager to talk to Harry away from Dumbledore, “Right well, I think that’s that then.”

If she had had a touch more grace, she probably would have hidden her ire and annoyance better, but she felt as though she knew Dumbledore well enough for him to know when he had annoyed her. And besides, perhaps she wanted him to know.

Perhaps she wanted him to feel her anguish, so that it could be marked in the room that she thought it a bad idea.

* * *

Back in Violet’s office, she and Harry were stood, not looking at each other trying to figure out what exactly there was to say. Violet broke the silence first, “How angry are you on a scale of one to ten?”

“A solid fifteen,” was Harry’s dry answer.

Violet nodded and a small smile managed to creep its way on to her face, “Good, I’m glad.”

“Really?” asked Harry, surprised at the answer, “Why?”

“Because,” began Violet folding her arms over her chest and staring at him pointedly, “I don’t believe this will work, and,” she paused, “I firstly want it noted and I want you to note it too. But really though, I’m glad that you feel the same way as me, because I just know that everyone else is gonna be for the idea.”

Harry blinked, “Sirius, too?”

Violet laughed, “Yes. It’s not the idea he’ll be against, it’ll be Snape. When I or you, if you want, explain Dumbledore’s reason, he’ll back it, no doubt.” She looked at Harry, “He wants you safe and he wants the Order safe and really, he wants to win, because he’s got a second chance at this shit, and he lost too much last time for him to be able to take another chance. Which means,” she walked over to Harry, “that you’ve got absolutely no chance, mate.”

She kissed his forehead and affectionately ruffled his hair, and Harry found himself leaning towards her touch. He ended up resting his head on her shoulder and she sloped her arms around him in return.

They were quiet for a while.

Nothing much more to say on either part.

That was until Harry remembered the thing he had been meaning to bring up with Violet for a while now, “Have you noticed that Dumbledore’s not looking at me?” His tone was light, but Violet could tell he was doing his best to supress his anger at said headmaster.

Violet pulled away from their embrace and averted her gaze, giving a slight ironic smile, “I was hoping you hadn’t.” She then brought her gaze back to Harry, to the eyes so similar to hers, “I’ve got nothing. I don’t know why he’s – I don’t understand, and I’m sorry, but at the minute I don’t seem to be understanding very much.” She looked at him sadly, “I’m sorry.”

Harry said nothing for a moment, and Violet struggled to gage what he was thinking. She could normally read him so well, but the way his back had tensed slightly at something she had said, made her look at him curiously, but also cautiously.

He then broke his silence, “Why isn’t he telling me anything?” asked Harry vehemently, “He’s supposed to be leading this whole thing, he’s supposed to be the one that knows everything, but he _won’t tell me anything_ and it’s _me_ Voldemort’s coming after. It’s like he _doesn’t want_ me to know. If anything, you’d think he wanted -,” Harry stopped his diatribe mid-sentence, realising that he had either gotten too carried away or that he was about to overshare on his personal thoughts.

The both of them felt the tension around them begin its climb. It grew thicker and thicker with every second.

Violet looked at him fiercely, “He definitely doesn’t want you to die, if that’s what you were about to say.” And by the look on Harry’s face and in his eyes, Violet would say she guessed right. She let out a breath angrily, though it was less aimed at Harry and more aimed at the world in general, “I know as much as you. I’ve told you all I know -,”

“Yeah, but it’s not enough,” exclaimed Harry, his voice raising. Violet reeled back in shock, immediate defences of anger coming straight out of her throat.

“I can’t tell you what I don’t know,” said Violet incredulously, raising her voice, in turn “I can’t help when I -,”

It was escalating quickly, neither of them could reel their emotions back in.

Harry interrupted, exclaiming, “You’re not even _trying_. Dumbledore trusts _you_. He trusts _you_ more than anyone else. You can help, but you’re not -,”

Violet felt herself getting near the point of furious. He had no authority to tell her when she wasn’t trying, she would bloody well decide that for herself, “Not trying,” she scoffed, “okay. Sure, if that’s what you think, but you need to co-operate -,”

“Well, maybe I would be able to co-operate if I knew _what the hell was going on_ -,”

“ _And you think anyone does?_ ” shouted Violet, both of them blazing. The volume of her voice having made Harry stop and look at her properly, for she had never shouted that loud at him before; not in over five years of arguments with her.

Her chest was heaving, as she stared down (though not that far down anymore) at her nephew. Her back was straight, as a gap had formed between the two of them as they argued, “Do you think anyone has any idea what the hell is going on? I’m trying, believe me when I say I’ve done nothing but try -,”

Harry scoffed, anger firing itself up in his body for the second time, but before he could utter his response, the door to the defence office – Violet’s office – swung open dramatically. The both of them

And there stood Snape, greasy hair, hooked nose and all.

* * *

 _“…can’t tell you what I don’t know…help when -,”_ Snape stopped outside the defence office, hand paused in its movements as it went to open the door, as he heard her raised voice. He had been told by Dumbledore to let her and Potter know the details of their sessions. He had also been told by Dumbledore to let her threaten him, which was why he had decided venture over to this side of the castle and kill two birds with one stone.

Dumbledore was fond of the girl. More than fond, he supposed. He saw why, she had the qualities that Lily had had: fiery and attractive. They were likeable, of course they were, he had too been under the spell once.

He heard Potter’s voice, “ _…Dumbledore trusts_ you _…trusts you more than anyone…”_ and for the first time Snape realised that he agreed with Potter

Neither of them had noted him opening the door slightly.

As he listened he wondered vaguely at the thought of them finding out that it had been him who told the Dark Lord of the prophecy. He could almost imagine their facial expressions - the disgust, the hatred, the anger. Yes, he could most definitely see it. Strange that he couldn't also feel it.

He focused his attention, “ _…And you think anyone does?”_ Snape would be lying if he didn’t admit that the volume of her voice hadn’t made him jump slightly. She and Potter fell silent and he could feel the tension from outside the room.

Snape had an inkling as to what they were arguing about, and he told himself that he didn’t care. He would teach Potter occlumency if he had to, but that didn’t mean he was endeavouring to bond with Potter.

The boy was mediocre at best.

She, however, was smarter than she let on. She was more mature than Lily had been too, but perhaps he only said that because she lived passed the age at which Lily had died. Perhaps, but she knew what she was getting into - she _understood -_ Lily had never (known or understood). But then, he thought, she was always more willing to get dirty than Lily had ever been, even as a small child.

As a child himself, he had always thought she would have suited being a boy far more than being a girl.

And then, before his thoughts could get too carried away, he pushed open the door dramatically and stared as the two swung round to stare at him.

Violet was mildly impressed at Snape’s arrival: if there was ever a worse time to barge in on an aunt and nephew, it was then. She was also surprisingly thankful, because it now meant that she would not have to hear what Harry had been about to say to her, which, she was sure, she would not have liked.

“Snape,” greeted Violet cordially, as though she had not just been shouting at her nephew about an oncoming war.

Snape did not look at her, but rather kept his eyes focused on giving Harry a look of disdain, he then said to Harry, “You are to come to my office every Thursday evening at six. If anyone asks you why, then you must tell them you are receiving Remedial Potions.”

Harry almost looked like he was waiting for Violet to be offended on his behalf, but she said nothing. So, before he began to get fully riled up again, he muttered, “Fine,” and left the classroom, narrowly curbing Snape’s presence in the doorway.

Snape lingered and Violet looked at him, “Are you expecting me to tell you not to torture Harry? Or use these lessons as an excuse to vent all your pent-up hatred for James?”

“I believe that was Dumbledore’s intention,” said Snape silkily.

Violet snorted, “He’s always intending.” She then flashed her gaze to him, “Well, don’t. There, was that good enough?” Snape said nothing. “Look, Sirius will probably want to do this. I have nothing to say – I don’t -,” _care,_ was what nearly slipped from her tongue

She stopped herself and looked as though she had been burned, and Snape took that as his cue to leave.

He was only a little surprised at her response, but then again not much surprised him anymore.

* * *

Staring at the open doorway, where Snape had just practically glided out, Violet put a hand to her cheek and then moved it to her forehead, thinking.

She thought a lot these days. More than normal. Just thinking.

Then she scowled at herself: she shouldn’t have lost her temper with Harry. They didn’t have time to argue amongst themselves. But that didn’t deter her from her point, he wasn’t co-operating, and he wasn’t making things easy. But then he was also right, how could he co-operate if he didn’t know anything? And then her point still stood, _nobody_ knew anything, least of all her.

But then there was his other point, his point that she wasn’t trying.

That’s the point that had made her truly angry, but now, she wasn’t so sure.

Did Harry really feel like she wasn’t trying? Was she really trying? Of course she was, wasn’t she? Violet stared at the door for a moment before she was crushed with an impending wave of loneliness. She perched on one of the desks and stared.

Her throat constricted slightly, and it made her pulse quicken.

 _No,_ Violet told herself. She closed her eyes and waited until her throat relaxed.

No. She would not. Not anymore.

Because she was trying, she did try, more than anyone knew. She had been trying for him since she was fifteen, and it wasn’t her fault that he couldn’t see that.

Not anymore.

Violet stared at the door once more: she knew the password to the Gryffindor common room; McGonagall had told her not two weeks ago. She let out a short breath. Then stood up and closed the door.

Not yet.

* * *

Sirius watched as Violet’s face popped into the mirror and looked over her face to find that she looked entirely worse for wear. She seemed to be doing the same thing, although he wasn’t sure he looked quite so tired as she did.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hello,” greeted Sirius, back, “Harry’s just been on.” His tone was light. Forced. Hers was too though.

She snorted, “Whinging, was he?”

He couldn’t help his surprise at the coldness in her tone and the chill in her words. He was yet to witness Violet and Harry fighting, though he had been told by Remus, who had watched them argue once in Harry’s third year, when she had agreed to represent him at his trial, that it was explosive, but very quickly resolved.

“Sounded a bit like you do now, actually,” said Sirius, continuing to gage the extent of the situation.

“Oh, yeah?” asked Violet tightly, “And what’s that like?”

“Angry,” he stated simply.

Violet looked unimpressed, “Don’t try and go all Gandhi on me; I’m not a child, Sirius. I don’t need to be lectured.”

He wasn’t entirely sure who or what Gandhi was, but it didn’t matter, for he understood what she was trying to say either way. He looked at her, and he could feel Remus’ stare on him, from where he was sat on Remus’ couch and where Remus was half reading the Prophet, half nosing in on the conversations Sirius was having, “I’m not treating you like a child -,”

But before he could say anymore, Violet was gone. She had disconnected her mirror.

Sirius looked up at Remus who was now paying full attention to him, and let the mirror roll out of his hand and fall on to the couch. Remus spoke first, “She’s right though.”

Resting his head in his hand, which was propped up by his arm against the arm of the couch, Sirius asked, eyebrow raised, “Right about what exactly?”

“She’s not a child,” answered Remus, in the tone that was always reserved for occasions where Remus thought he was right above all else.

“I know that,” said Sirius, waving his other hand dismissively.

Remus looked at him sceptically, “Do you really though? Because sometimes -,”

“- I know how old she is, Remus, alright?” Sirius bit out, impatience cutting through, “Azkaban didn’t ruin me that much,” he muttered the last comment, but Remus heard it all the same.

Twilight was settling down and Sirius could feel the chill of the early Autumn night beginning to take effect. He heard birds coming from somewhere, but for the most part it was silent. Or whatever it was or wasn’t, whether there was noise or there wasn’t it was still better than the screams in Azkaban.

Sometimes, and even Sirius could admit it to himself, it felt nicer to remember a time when Violet was a child. Because it meant he didn’t have to deal with whatever it was exactly that he was feeling. It felt nicer because it was easier.

(He wasn’t feeling attraction because that was too difficult. He didn’t absentmindedly wonder what Violet would think about something completely unimportant because that was too difficult. He didn’t, not for a second, ever feel a yearning to be close to her (and not in the way he used to) because that was too difficult.

There wasn’t time to deal with difficulties.

At least that’s what he told himself.)

It was easier because he treasured those moments like nothing else, the ones where Violet, child as she was – child as _he_ was, would cling to him because his brother had taken her sister and now, as he remembered her proclaiming dramatically, “We’re siblingless. It’s an empty void, Padfoot, can you feel it in your heart?” He remembered that she then turned to look at him, very seriously, “You know, if they ever break up, Lily will probably tell me I’m never allowed to see you again, because she’s petty like that, but you have to promise that I can still come to your flat, because I like it better at your place. And plus,” she added as an afterthought, “you let me stay up past midnight,”

Sirius remembers just being bemused but enjoying every second of this twelve-year-old girl asking him to promise that she will always be allowed in his flat. He also remembers having no idea how to respond properly, because, he had figured, that’s where people got all mushy and soppy, wasn’t it?

So, in true Marauder fashion, he grinned at her, the way he used to, and said, “The ‘siblingless’, eh? Think that sounds about right.”

And it was the way Violet had beamed after, that made him know to treasure it.

And treasure it he did.

* * *

Violet and Harry didn’t speak for a week. They avoided eye-contact in lessons and in the corridors if they happened to cross paths. In a strange way, Violet had decided it was nice. As horrid as that may seem, she couldn’t help the feeling.

It was nice, she had decided, to get away, even just for a week, from the problems that she dealt with continually. It could be suffocating to have to deal with the problems that surrounded Harry all day every day. Call her a bad guardian, she didn’t care. She needed space, she needed to clear her head, and she suspected Harry did too, because Violet knew she could be overbearing too.

And it had been good, Violet had also decided, to clear her head and just stop. To just stop and evaluate what she was doing, or rather what she was not doing.

It wasn’t as though Harry had been struggling without her (she hadn’t detached herself so much that she hadn’t glanced his way a couple times, just to check he was fairing fine). He had been fine. And that was that.

Although, and Violet would admit to the fact that it hadn’t happened of her own accord, rather only after McGonagall had practically kicked her up the backside, they had only gone a week not speaking to each other.

Which brings us to the amendment.

Violet surveyed the common room, in search for the unruly mop of hair and spectacles that she was so accustomed to seeing. When she concluded that he wasn’t there, she found another face that she did know, “Neville,” she smiled broadly, “d’you know where Harry is?”

“I think he’s upstairs, Professor,” answered Neville, “I – I can go get him if you want?”

Violet’s whole face basically lit up, “Could you? That’d be brill. Oh! Er – could you not tell him it’s me? Tell him it’s McGonagall – Professor McGonagall, should I say, sorry.” Neville stood up from where he had been doing his homework – Transfiguration if Violet’s eye-sight was anything to go by – and Violet continued by thanking him.

She waited in the common room, smiling, and speaking to the students she now taught, as she waited for Harry to come down the stairs searching for McGonagall. When he did, Violet nearly laughed at the face he pulled when he saw it was her.

“I had a feeling it’d be you,” said Harry, looking at her. Neville hung awkwardly at their sides.

Violet didn’t respond, just kept the funny sort of grin on her face. Instead, she turned to Neville, “Thank you again, Neville, and sorry for interrupting your homework.” She winked at him and he smiled unsurely back.

She then turned to Harry, who was watching her, and said, “Right, c’mon then you. Let’s try not to rip each other’s heads off this time, eh?”

“Hey,” started Harry defensively, as the two of them walked out of the common room and into the halls of Hogwarts, “you’re supposed to be the adult, I’m allowed to get angry – moody teenager, remember.”

Violet laughed, “Of course, I remember. Bloody hell, I’ll never forget the way you stormed out of my office. It’s like you’d been chased by a rabid animal or something-,”

She was cut off as Harry shoved her, which, of course, lead to Violet shoving him back.

They didn’t end up talking about their fight, but Violet supposed, later on that night, that the two of them forgiving each other was just one of those things that went without saying.

In fact, there had never been anything to forgive, because they were allowed to get angry and they were allowed to take it out on each other and say words they didn’t mean. It went both ways, and it was alright, because whatever happened Violet and Harry would be all right.

There was never any doubt of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everybody (I'm only six days late)!! Hope you all had a wonderful Christmas period (if you celebrate) given the circumstances!
> 
> Here's to a better year than the last one! Cheers ;)


	21. Chapter 21

Christmas came about with nightmares, snakes, and connections to Voldemort. Violet supposed it began with the night, a couple of days before Hogwarts was due to break up for the holidays, that Neville Longbottom knocked heavily on her office door, calling her name, praying for her to wake up.

It was a good job she was a light sleeper, and for the first time in her life, she had counted that as a blessing.

Violet, eyes bleary, unlocked her office door and pulled it open, “Neville?”

“It’s Harry, he’s – he’s had a nightmare, I think – I don’t know – he says that You-Know-Who has attacked Mr Weasley…” Neville looked as though he didn’t quite believe what he was saying, or for that matter, understand entirely what had happened.

But Violet had, and that was all that mattered, wasn’t it?

* * *

“Here,” she handed Harry a phial of calming draught. He was shaking, she noted.

Harry drank it without protest, and his friends watched on, wary.

Violet turned to Neville, “Neville, I need you to go get McGonagall and ask her to meet us in Dumbledore’s office. Tell her Arthur’s been hurt on duty – she’ll understand.” Neville nodded and set off without question. She then turned to Ron, “Ron, I want you to go wake your brothers, explain what’s happened, and go meet McGonagall and Neville at Dumbledore’s office. I’ll get Ginny in a minute, she’ll meet you there, alright?”

Ron swallowed thickly and looked at Harry, before nodding and heading back up the stairs to wake his brothers.

She turned back to Harry, “It’s alright. It’s – we’re going to be fine, Arthur’s going to be fine – we’ll be alright.” She took a deep breath and Harry stood up, sweating but not shaking anymore. They looked at each other, searching the other’s face.

Harry nodded; Violet looked at him for a moment more before she turned around to get Ginny.

* * *

Dumbledore looked at Violet, and Violet read his eyes and nodded, “Yeah – yeah, of course. Sirius’ll be there, so it’s no problem. Right – I should probably do the portkey then – er -,” she looked at Dumbledore’s desk, “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all,” answered Dumbledore, and Violet went over a picked up a quill. She fiddled with it a bit, pointed her wand, and murmured a couple things, but nothing coherent.

She stood in front of the four Weasley children, who all looked to be in a state of confusion, shock and worry, and Harry, who was staring at Dumbledore, and said, “This’ll take you to my house. Sirius is there, he’ll look after you,” she paused, “I’m sure the minute she can, your mum will contact you and provide you with information. I know it sounds pathetic, but you’ll just need to be patient.” She turned to Harry, who was now looking at her, but before she could speak, he spoke.

“You’re not coming?” his voice was coarse, with the strain of the night.

She smiled a little, “I’ll be home the minute term finishes, I promise.” She then said, “Right – er – here you go then.” She handed them the portkey and stepped in the direction of McGonagall and Neville.

And Violet definitely didn’t miss the tenseness in Harry’s posture, nor the fury in his gaze as he looked at Dumbledore, she just didn’t know what to do about it.

* * *

“I’m home,” called Violet, as she shut the front door behind her and took her shoes off. The house was quiet, Weasley-barren, as it were: the Weasley children had gone home the moment Mrs Weasley had told them that Arthur was recovering and Remus was out, either with werewolves or at home, no one was quite sure anymore.

Sirius was the only one to pop out from the living room and greet her, his arms were folded across his chest as he watched her, “Hello,” he greeted, not completely cheery, he then explained the lack of absence from the other member of the household, “Harry’s in his room, sulking or brooding – it’s quite hard to tell.”

Violet’s eyebrow raised quite dramatically, “Had a fight, did you?” She couldn’t help the small smile that wriggled its way on to her face.

He rolled his eyes and denied, “No, he just won’t -,” he spoke quietly, “I think there’s something wrong.”

Nodding, Violet said, “I’ll go up in a minute.” She then smiled again and approached him, “Come on then, I haven’t seen you in ages.” Violet wrapped her arms around him, and he reciprocated the gesture.

“You saw me two weeks ago, Freckles,” he murmured in her ear, voice teetering between genuine amusement and sarcasm.

Violet repressed the urge to shiver a little, “Shut up, everything’s going to pot, so just shut up for a minute.”

Sirius shut up for a minute.

* * *

Pushing open the door to Harry’s room, Violet entered hesitantly. There was nothing that she was really going to be able to do, there was no information for her to provide, she hadn’t the slightest idea of what was happening, all she knew was that Harry was struggling.

By the way things looked as she entered the room, Harry seemed to have been trying to do some holiday work, but then given up as he stared unseeingly out of the window. “Hey,” greeted Violet, making her way in further.

Harry didn’t turn around or make any acknowledgment that he had heard her, but Violet knew he had. She ended up sat on the bed, trying to think of what it was exactly that she wanted to say. She then asked him, “How’re you feeling?”

It was a bit of a stupid question, all things considering, and Violet had expected Harry’s gruff answer of, “Fine.”

She nodded her head, only partially sarcastically, “Good. Well -,” then she paused, before staring again, “We’ve been invited to the Weasley’s for Christmas Day; Molly and Arthur said they owed it to us and insisted that we didn’t turn it down.”

Harry finally looked away from the window and looked at her, “’Owed it to us?’” questioned Harry, “We haven’t done anything.”

“They seem to believe that without you, Arthur would be dead -,”

Harry cut her off, “And what do you think?”

“Well, I think they’re right, aren’t they? Without you, Arthur _would_ be dead -,”

Cutting her off again, Harry said sharply, “Without me, Mr Weasley wouldn’t have been hurt in the first place.”

 _A fair analysis_ , thought Violet, but she didn’t say that aloud. Instead, she asked, “So you were dreaming through the perspective of the snake?”

“I wasn’t dreaming,” stated Harry and Violet refrained from rolling her eyes.

She was quick to say back, “Well, when you come up with a word that you would rather me use, tell me. Until then, I’ll stick to it. So -,”

“Yes,” Harry paused, “I was the snake.”

Violet flashed her gaze towards him, “You were in the perspective of the snake. You were still you. In your bed.” Harry looked away, and back out of the window. Violet drew in a breath and released it slowly. Harry then mumbled something that strained Violet’s ears. She looked at him inquisitively, “What?”

This time Harry spoke louder, “I could feel it. I could feel everything; It felt like I was – no – I _was_ the snake.”

Violet blinked, and then something clicked in her brain. She blurted, “The snake is a -,” and then she stopped, as something else clicked in her brain. To Harry, she must have looked slightly shocked and slightly deranged, but her brain had suddenly alighted and there was nothing asides burning and cindering that her brain was capable of.

She stood up abruptly, opened her mouth to say something, before deciding against it and practically running out the door. Violet stood, frazzled, uncertain, scared. She had shut the door behind her and was now leaning against the wall looking around the landing. Her heart and her insides were sizzling and the magic that ran throughout her veins was scorching.

She was paralyzed, and yet she felt she had the energy to run a marathon. She couldn’t move, and yet her brain was smouldering with a desire to be put into action. She was still, and then she was not.

“…Violet?” It was Sirius, staring at her utterly bemused.

At that moment, Harry’s door creaked open, and his questioning face peered out from the depths of his room. Violet could feel herself begin to panic, desiring nothing more than solitary confinement for her to think. She brought a hand to her head, trying to think of what she was going to do, of how she could get out of this situation.

She darted her eyes about, taking shallow breaths, “I – I’ll be back in – I – I’m – I need to go.” She paused, and then added, “Don’t worry,” as if that was supposed help.

Without waiting to see if either of them would reply, Violet practically flew her way down the stairs into the hallway. She pulled on her boots and shrugged on her coat with incredible speed. And the door shut before time could catch up with her.

Hearing the door slam, Sirius turned to look at Harry with a raised eyebrow, “What the bloody hell did you say to her?”

Harry looked more confused than Sirius, “Nothing. She just started to say something about the snake and then she looked like she had seen a ghost.”

Sirius shook his head, “And this hasn’t happened before, has it? Her taking off like the end of the world was on its way?”

Harry shrugged, “Dunno, not while I’ve been living here. “

“Right,” stated Sirius, cheerily, “Excellent! I suppose we’re just supposed to wait for her to come back then and find out what the bloody hell is going on in that brain of hers.”

They were both silent for a moment, before Harry changed the subject and asked, “Has she told you we’re going to the Weasleys for Christmas?”

Sirius grumbled as conformation, “What a way to get into the Christmas spirit, eh? Having Molly Weasley mithering me about my alleged inability to be a godfather and whether or not I’m insane, can’t fucking wait.”

Despite the situation, Harry laughed a little, and Sirius was more than happy to see it. Harry then said, “She doesn’t think you’re insane.”

Snorting, Sirius said drily, “I’d ask Violet to be testament, but she’s vanished, so you’ll just have to take my word for it, dear godson; Molly Weasley thinks I need to be in a mental institute for reckless, escaped prisoners.”

Harry stepped out of his room properly, and started to make his way downstairs, realising he was painfully hungry, “She’s not that bad; you’re exaggerating, dear godfather.”

Sirius followed him down, “Firstly, I’m not.” And before Harry could cut in, Sirius continued, walking down the stairs, “Secondly, she really is that bad, you should see the death glares I get every order meeting. Anytime I say something to do with you, she turns on me like a bloody dragon…”

The conversation continued well into the kitchen where the both of them kept trying to distract themselves from the mysterious case of the disappearing Violet Evans.

* * *

In all honesty, Violet had darted from the house with nothing in her thoughts but pure chaos. Her mind was whirring, and her heart was thumping sporadically in spasms. She walked for a while, trying to process what she had thought, and rationalise whether or not her thought had been right.

But she had to have been right: it fit. It explained. It made sense, for goodness’ sake. It made sense, and that terrified her.

The thought of her being right made her tremble with terror and confusion and lostness. Chaos was, indeed, the right word.

In her mind, she only had one place she could go, when, in actuality, there were a multitude of places she could have gone. But her mind was all that mattered, and so she went to the only place she could.

The car was away, and Violet was glad. She could see the bony outline through the stained-glass window, which rested peacefully next to the door, and Violet was glad. She could feel for a moment the chaos shrouding her mind dissipate slightly as she was distracted by another problem, and Violet thought she was glad.

Staring uncertainly at the door of number 4. Privet Drive, Violet hesitated, before she raised her head, straightened her back, and knocked thrice on the door.

The door was opened as equally hesitantly as it had been knocked on, and for a moment, the two sisters looked at each other. Just looked. No noise, just looking. No sneer, but no smile. Just eyes, one pair blue, the other green. One mother, one father, blue, green. One sister.

One sister gone, another standing in front of them, just looking.

Violet stopped looking first, and let out a shallow breath through her nose, “I didn’t – are you busy?”

Petunia didn’t look like she knew entirely what to say (she probably didn’t), but she knew she wasn’t going to answer yes, because that would be lying. And that was enough; for now, at least.

* * *

“…He’s back?” questioned Petunia, dubiously. There was no tea on the table, there were no formalities, there was just two women, two sisters, trying desperately to make a start on mending what had been shattered long, long ago.

Violet had started by sitting down but had quickly found her mind to be too chaotic to maintain the position, so she was standing. She nodded, “Yes. Voldemort, the one who killed Lily, is back.” Here, she paused, before continuing with, “And he’s after Harry.”

If Petunia thought she was inebriated, she had the decency to hide it, because she then asked again, “He’s after the boy?” Here, she paused too, before also continuing with, “Why?”

Against her will, Violet found the sides of her eyes beginning to sting, and a lump to start barricading her throat. Again, if Petunia noticed or thought anything of it, she didn’t make a show of it. Violet blinked somewhat viciously, and then said, “There’s – There’s this prophecy. It was made years ago,” she waved her hand impatiently, “that’s why. He, Voldemort, I mean, is scared of Harry, because of this…prophecy.”

“And he’s after the boy…he wants him dead?”

“Yes.”

Silence. “Are we in danger?”

“Possibly.”

“Is that why you’ve come?”

“No.”

Silence.

Violet focused fully on her sister, and said, “Remember a couple of years ago, when I came with Harry and -,” her hand wafted around in search for the correct word.

Petunia found it for her, “And made the house safe.”

“Yes,” Violet was surprised, “yes, and made the house safe. It – It alerts me, I s’pose you could say, when – when the house is…not safe.” She paused, “So, I’ll know, I’ll always know.” That was Violet’s way of saying, ‘I’ll be there if you’re in danger, and I’ll help, I’ll always help’. Of course, it probably seemed very bizarre to an outsider, but it worked for the two sisters, and that was all that mattered.

Averting her gaze, Petunia looked pensive, “And how likely is it…that the house should be…unsafe?”

Violet shook her head, “No idea. Unlikely, I’d say, but someone else would probably say very. He lived with you for ten years, but,” Violet tilted her head and considered, “he loves me more, so if Voldemort were trying to get to him, he would have more hope going after me – or Sirius, for that matter.”

To Petunia, her younger sister’s pragmatism at the possibility of such morbid matters was a shock. To Violet, it had been her job to be pragmatic for years. It was what she had thrived off of. If she wasn’t pragmatic, with herself and others, there was a chance she would become complacent, and never was there a worse time to become complacent.

“So, why did you come then? If you think it’s unlikely that the house should be unsafe?” asked Petunia, and Violet had to refrain from flinching.

Violet looked away, and ran a hand through her hair, because she feared if she didn’t, she would grasp on to Petunia with all the strength that she had and never let go. But it was a bit early yet in the reparations to let that happen, so her hands went to her hair.

“…Violet?”

This time Violet did flinch, and just the sound of her sister saying her name made the stinging at the side of her eyes spring to life once more. “I just -,” her voice cracked and brought both hands to her eyes that had leaked a couple tears. She wiped the droplets away, only to find more filling up in her eyes.

Petunia looked conflicted at a loss for words and a desire to play older sister again, a role that she had taken so much pride and joy in for years as a child. She did nothing though, just sat, stoically, watching, looking at Violet trying to compose herself.

As she watched, Petunia noticed that Violet’s nose still went red when she cried. It went so red; it nearly matched the colour of her hair. She also noticed that Violet’s forehead still crinkled as though she were trying to concentrate on making the tears stop.

If she squinted hard enough, Petunia would be able to see a ten-year-old, crying because she had tried to test out her ‘magic powers’ and jumped from a tree at a considerable height, only to land and have a broken ankle and wrist to show for it. Petunia remembered watching their father, panicked, ordering her, Petunia who had come home for Christmas from her place in London, and their mother to get something cold to stop the swelling.

(Violet had been their father’s favourite, the girl (or woman now, Petunia supposed) had always been oblivious. Violet had been bold and daring, cunning and sneaky, clever and witty, cheeky and charming. There had never been any competition in their father’s eyes, even though Petunia had been alive for eight years before Violet.

Lily had been their mother’s favourite, the girl (not woman, because Lily had never gotten to be a woman) had known, but denied it till her very last moments. Lily had been sweet and kind, clever and quaint, graceful and lovely, cheeky and charming too, but in a different way than Violet had been. Their mother had taken one look at her middle child, and, although all parents deny it, had chosen Lily as her favourite.

And Petunia had been the oldest, the ugliest, the bossiest, the shrewd, the bore, the one with no magic. When Petunia smiled with teeth, she looked like a horse. When Petunia tried to be graceful, no one noticed. When Petunia tried to be cheeky, she sounded like she was sneering, like she was rude.

Her sisters had been given magic and she had been given horse-teeth; how had she ever been able to compare, to compete?

She hadn’t, that’s the point.)

Ten-year-old Violet had tried to put on a brave face but putting on a brave face was always something much easier said than done. And, at the time, Petunia had expected she had felt disappointment far heavier than the pain from her ankle and wrist.

Within the panic and the concern and the chaos, Petunia had felt hope blossom in her chest, just a tiny bit, because maybe Violet didn’t have magic after all, maybe she didn’t have to be jealous of this sister, maybe there was hope for Petunia.

But there hadn’t been, there had been no hope for Petunia Evans, because, firstly, within a week, Violet’s leg and wrist were healed and the doctor at the hospital had called it a miracle, and because, secondly, within three months, another letter and the same wrinkled witch with emerald robes had knocked on the door.

Violet had jumped around the kitchen, their mother had looked on fondly, yet exasperatedly, and their father had grinned broadly in the way only his girl could make him, shouting, “I’m magic! I’m magic too! Look, Dad, I really have magic too!”

Petunia had retreated upstairs, scowling, sneering, sobbing, because _of course_. _Of course,_ Violet was a witch too. She was the only one, the only ugly, old, shrewd, normal, non-Magic one. And that was that.

Finally, Violet had managed to compose herself, and she was working on what it was exactly that she was here for, “I – This is not – I didn’t – what I mean to say is that, I’ve just – I just… _can’t_.” Internally, Violet berated herself, _what a load of sense that made, well bloody done_. Outwardly, she sat, for she had moved herself to the couch while she had her meltdown (Petunia sat in the armchair to her right) and avoided any eye-contact with her sister.

Petunia, however, didn’t say anything, just waited for her to expand on what it was that she couldn’t. The elder woman had actually thought her younger sister had meant she couldn’t cope, but she was proven drastically wrong in that respect.

“I – I can’t help,” there she said it, “I can’t help him with…with this, and…” she took a deep breath, and released it as she said, “and it’s killing me. It kills me _every_ _single day_ , because I’m his – his…because I’ve always been able to help, _always_ , and now – and now I can’t and it’s fucking killing me. And I’m sorry for barging in on you and probably ruining your afternoon and I’ll leave soon, but I just wanted to say it. I just wanted to say it out loud, and I’ve got no one else who I – who I can say it to.” Her voice trailed off as she came to stop herself from rambling.

The two sisters sat in silence, letting the words sink into their skin. Until, Petunia surprised both of them and spoke, “I haven’t ever told you this, but,” and here, Violet finally found the courage and the curiosity to turn her gaze towards her sister, “the nurse at Dudley’s school said he was too –,” the words seemed to begin to stick in Petunia’s throat, “– said that he was too big, and that he needed to go on a diet.”

Violet’s first reaction was a flurry of snide comments (for example, _well obviously, did it really take a professional to figure that one out?_ ) but her second reaction was to swallow them all, because she was better than that. Violet was better, kinder, more peaceful than that, or she was trying to be at least.

Her third reaction, however, was something akin to confusion, as to why on earth Petunia was comparing Dudley being overweight to Harry being sought out by a murderous, raving lunatic.

She actually had a feeling that Petunia had gaged her three reactions without fail and without uncertainty; it made Violet feel simultaneously terrified and pleased.

Petunia carried on regardless, and Violet listened regardless, “I understand that these circumstances differ to yours, but when the letter came in the post and I read it, I had never felt more helpless.” Violet was quiet, listening, savouring, “I’ve never not been able to let him have what he wanted, that’s my way, I suppose, of helping him, and then to be told that I couldn’t give him what he wanted, that I couldn’t help him in the way that I did. It – it,” this time it was Petunia who couldn’t find the word.

And it was this time that Violet found it, “It hurt, inside.”

“Yes.”

They fell silent again to that.

* * *

Later on, when Violet was back at home, calmer, she would think that despite the fact that neither of them had explicitly said or done anything to help the other, she couldn’t help but feel something blossom inside her chest as she remembered the – not warmth, because that would be wrong – but the understanding Petunia had shown her, and the quietness, and the willingness to listen.

It was unquantifiable what Petunia had done for Violet that day. Unquantifiable.

Now, Violet had most certainly not forgot the snippet of thought she had latched on to in Harry’s bedroom. Most certainly not, rather she had just hidden it, deep down in the crevasses of her chest, until she figured what exactly she was going to do with it.

And then New Year’s Eve came, and Violet told Sirius, because she just had to. That was the only and simplest reason she had: because she just had to. She couldn’t not, and so she told him, as whispers in her kitchen at two in the morning.

All four of the remaining had laughed into the new year, they had ignored the travesty of their situation and of the world that they lived in, just for the moment. They were with each other, and all four of them had cherished it like nothing else.

Remus and Harry had gone off to bed, wimps, as Sirius had called them, but they had gone to bed anyway. And that left Sirius and Violet, whispering, arguing, laughing.

“I’m not drunk,” denied Sirius, reaching for the diminishing bottle of firewhiskey, that he had bought himself, in protest of Violet’s pathetic, non-existent alcohol collection.

Violet grabbed it first and pulled it away, out of his reach, “And _I’m_ not dealing with you, _hungover_ tomorrow morning -,”

“- but I’m not drunk,” he noted Violet’s pointed gaze, and conceded a bit, “Fine, I’m tipsy.”

“Tipsy?” quoted Violet, wryly, “Tipsy, my arse; look at your eyes -,”

“And just how am I supposed to do that?”

Violet ignored him, “Next time you bring firewhiskey home, I’m going to pour it all away and fill it with water instead: you’re absolutely unbearable.”

“Besides,” continued Sirius, pretending he hadn’t heard her, “I have a very high alcohol tolerance.” Violet grumbled and Sirius laughed, “You know what you sound like?

“What?”

“A cat, a really angry cat.”

Grumbling again, Violet said quietly, “You think you’re funny?”

“Hilarious, actually,” Sirius had taken a step closer to Violet, and looked to be investigating her face.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, each investigating the others face. Sirius’ heartrate had stepped up to a significant pace, and he didn’t think it was because he was tipsy. Violet’s heartrate was doing similar things, but she knew why.

The silence and the moment broke when Violet realised, she couldn’t not tell Sirius, when she realised that she had to, “Remember about a week ago, when I – er -,”

“Ran from the house like you’d seen a ghost? Yes, Freckles, I do remember.”

“Right, yeah,” Violet lowered her voice to barely a whisper, “Er – well,” she struggled to find the correct words, and then she just said it, “ _IthinkHarryisahorcrux_.”

Sirius frowned, “You might have to say that again, slower this time, please: my tipsy-brain can’t keep up.”

Scowling, Violet repeated, slower this time but just as quiet, “I think Harry is a horcrux.”

He was silent, and Violet felt like begging him to say something, anything, but he said nothing. He was silent.

He was silent, until he wasn’t, “And how have you come to that conclusion?” He wasn’t drunk enough to have completely lost all sense of thought, of rationality. He was still there, somewhat anyhow, but enough for this.

“I just…have,” replied Violet. She noted Sirius’ acutely raised eyebrow, and she expanded, “He told me he was the snake, he said that he could feel everything. I couldn’t understand how that was possible, I just – I mean, it’s just utterly, utterly bizarre. But then it sort of clicked in my brain that the snake was one, was a horcrux, which means that Harry has to be one too.”

“He’s a Parseltongue, that was the first sign. Dumbledore said, years ago now, that Voldemort transferred some of his powers to him, on the night, but what powers? How do you transfer powers? They share a – a connection, but how? How do they? I’ve been trying to make sense it for years. How can they have a connection with – through a _scar_? It never made sense, not to me anyway. The only way I can think of, at least, is if they share something more, something deeper.”

“Like souls,” finished Sirius, and he was looking at her, piercingly this time, but no less intensely. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so tipsy.

Violet looked at him, equally piercing. Green bore into grey. Each of their eyes glinted with something that couldn’t quite be called passion, “I don’t -,” her voice was still no louder than a whisper, “There’s no way I can know for certain,” she admitted, “but I’m _not_ going to Dumbledore. Not yet.”

Sirius broke their gaze and looked around the kitchen, “You telling Harry?”

She was silent, until she wasn’t, “Should we?”

For a second, amusement shone in Sirius’ eyes, “Don’t bring me into this, Freckles; this was your revelation,” and then the amusement vanished, “Do you _want_ to tell him?”

“Of course I don’t _want_ to,” she answered quickly, “Who would want to tell anyone that they think you’re a horcrux, of all bloody things? No – no – I don’t want to, but should I?”

“It’s your decision -,”

Violet was desperate now, she reached out and grasped his arm, “Don’t – don’t do that – I can’t – _you have to help me_ -,” her tone was pleading, helpless.

The dual piercing stare returned, and somehow, this time it was more intense. Violet’s hand dropped back to her side, and she was only now aware of just how close they were standing. She was certain if Sirius strained his ears enough, he would be able to hear her heart making an attempt to beat its way out of her chest.

His eyes ran all over her face, across the thousands of freckles, across her lips and her eyes, and back over her lips once more.

They stared at each other again. Asking, reading, understanding.

_Can I? Should we?_

_Not yet. Not yet_. _I’m not ready yet._

And it wasn’t the answer to whether or not Harry should be told.

Not yet. Violet supposed it was an answer to both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't already noticed, I've deleted the some more chapters - just to give a quick reference the story now begins at PoA. I don't think it should be a problem, I've taken out bits of the previous story that don't fit with the way I want this to end and where it is that I'm going. I mean, there were definitely things that I liked in those first few chapters, but there were also definitely things that I didn't like, and no amount of editing would fix that, unless I was to go over and redo them all, which, frankly, I don't have time for. 
> 
> But yeah, anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter (I love writing Petunia and I've been waiting for ages to do a Sirius + Violet moment), and thanks for reading! :)


End file.
